CHAP. I.

THough it may seem ill-natur'd to leave the Chast Theodora in so deplorable a Condition, yet it is requisite to do so for a while, that we may learn what was at­tempted to rescue her out of it.

[Page 2] It is not to be doubted, but that, Didymus was not long kept a stranger to the barbarous usage she had suf­fered. That of so illustrious a Lady could not but make a great noise, and reach a multitude of ears; and especially those of so concern'd a Per­son as Didymus: The wounds of Lovers tender hearts, giving them oftentimes secret Presages of ap­proaching misfortunes relating to their Love: As many other wound­ed men have the unhappy Priviledge of being able, by feeling of pain, to discern such approaches of ill wea­ther, as affect not unhurt men.

Didymus therefore being quickly too much ascertain'd of the unwel­come News of the distress of his fair Mistress, was too generous a Lover to deliberate, whether he should ex­pose his life for her rescue: His de­liberation being only about the means, how to make so difficult an attempt a prosperous one. In order to this, [Page 3] he happily finds out one of the Offi­cers of the Guards, that were placed about the infamous House, to which Theodora was condemned: Who having been his fellow Soldier in the Roman Armies; he hoped would either for the sake of Vertue or of Didymus, be prevail'd with to fur­ther so handsom a Design as his.

Wherefore addressing himself to this Commander, with a very ob­liging and yet civil Freedom: Gene­rous Septimius, saies he, I cannot but look upon it as one of the chief advan­tages I have obtain'd by venturing my Life in the Roman Camps, that I had the happiness to be acquainted with you there, and to be a spectator of your Gallantry; which did not only then raise me to a desire of imi­tating it, but allows me now to own a request to you, that none but a gallant Person ought to be entrusted with, or would easily grant. Ge­nerous Didymus, replies the Roman, When I accompanied you in fol­lowing [Page 4] our propitious Eagles, I found so great a contentment in your ac­quaintance, and so strong a spur to Glory, in your examples, that I look'd upon the advantage of having been your fellow Soldier, as preferable to the honour of Leading the most nu­merous Troops I may at any time Command. And I shall think all the hazards I then expos'd my self to, abundantly rewarded, if any power they have procured me, may enable me to do you service. Tell me then frankly, in what case, and after what manner, you would have it employ'd for you; and as I as­sure my self, that so vertuous a Friend as Dydimus, will desire no­thing but what is just, so he may as­sure himself, not to be refus'd any service, that is but Dange­rous.

Our Lover embolden'd by so en­couraging a declaration, first made him a very grateful Acknowledg­ment for it, and then proceeded to say, [Page 5] If you have ever had the happiness to be acquainted with Theodora, or so much as to have seen her, 'twould be needless, as well as improper, for me to offer at giving you a Character of her, which you must needs think injurious to her. But if you have not, the shortness of the time will only permit me to assure you, that not only she has given me those Sen­timents of her Excellencies, that I never had, nor ever thought my self capable of having, for any of her Sex; but that in other Persons strangely indispos'd to admit such impressions, she has often excited such wonder and such flames, as very rarely have been produced in other men, and perhaps, more rarely been merited by other women.

This admirable Person, for exer­cising among other vertues, that of an invincible Constancy, to her Re­ligion, and refusing to Sacrifice to Venus, Flora, and some other of those Deities, whom her Perfections might, [Page 6] though her Religion did not, exempt from adoring; is by your savage Pre­sident condemn'd to be expos'd to the publick Lust: And a Party of those gallant Roman Soldiers, that use to be so gloriously led on by you, to win Bat­tels, conquer Kingdoms, and enlarge at once the Fame and Limits of the Empire, are now employ'd to cap­tivate innocent Virgins, and defend their brutish Ravishers. You may easily guess by this, continues he, that my request is like to prove an earnest one; that you would please to treat with some of those soldiers of yours, in whom you think you have the greatest Interest, and dis­pose them to assist me in rescuing Theodora out of so infamous a Prison, and accept from me greater recom­pences for doing a handsom action, than they can expect from the Pre­sident, for doing a barbarous one; I hope I need not tell you, in the hast this affair requires, that all pos­sible care will be taken to keep you from being endanger'd by Theodoras [Page 7] deliverance, nor will I add how un­expressible an Obligation you will lay on me, to heighten my gratitude to some proportion to your Favours; because I know it must necessarily fall short of them, and are due to a person that loves to do gallant Actions for their own sake, and had rather have great debts of gratitude, remain due to him, than paid to him; where­fore I shall only mind you, that the time is so short, that if your assistance be not as quick as obliging, I fear 'twill be as ineffectual. I shall quicken you only by assuring you, that when you act for the accomplish'd Theodora, you act for a person that has a Right to all that Beauty and Vertue can give one a Title to.

With the same freedom, replies Sep­timius, with which you have own'd to me your Religion, I declare to you, that mine is that of my Coun­try, and my Ancestors; and that I worship those propitious Deities, that have made the Romans the Conque­rors [Page 8] of the World, and rewarded those that adored them with an Uni­versal Monarchy; but though I ex­ceedingly approve so triumphant a Religion, yet I confess to you, that I do not like the waies that the Presi­dent takes to propogate it: such cruel methods being apt to make the world suspect, that our best Argument is Force: And whilst the Persecutors think it a glorious thing to see the Temples fill'd at any rate; I had rather see in them fewer but sincere Votaries, than have them throng'd with such pusillanimous Dissemblers, as would not come in, unless they were Scar'd in, thither. And, though Terrors and Torments work some­times upon the weaker sort of Christi­ans, yet the more resolute do so often despise them, that our Persecutions convert not those unhappy persons, but frequently stagger many of our own; and I confess freely to you, Didymus, that all the Christians Ar­guments work less with me, than our inhumane manner of confuting [Page 9] them. But I do not only disap­prove, but detest, this infamous Practice of our President; which makes him loose not the respect only and the pitty, but the common Hu­manity we owe to Women, and think to do the Goddesses a service, by disfiguring their fairest Images here below, with the most shame­ful of Blemishes. I cannot bring my self to imagine, that such gentle Dei­ties, can like such barbarous Wor­shippers, who not only immolate to them the lives of men, but what is far more precious, the Vertue and Honour of Women; for if I could believe they like such Sacrifices, I should think them unworthy any Sa­crifices at all. You will easily there­fore, Didymus, credit me, that I was absent when my soldiers were put by the insolent Judge, upon so mean an employment. He durst not have of­fered to have obtruded it upon them, had I been there; or if he had, I had dared to use him as his insolence had deserved. But without loosing time [Page 10] in passionate Expostulations, about things made remediless, by being past, let us speedily apply our selves to the rescue of Theodora. For, though I have heard strange things of her, and such as made me think Fame a great Flatterer, if not a frontless Liar, yet I believe the Reports about Theo­dora, as I believe the Delphick Ora­cles, now that I find so undeniable a Testimony of her merit, as her being your Mistress. I will there­fore without delay, prepare some Soldiers to assist you in her Rescue, and I cannot doubt the success in an attempt made to serve a distrest Beau­ty, and a generous Friend. If there be occasion, you need not doubt of my more openly appearing for you. For how highly soever such an action may provoke the President, or even the Emperour, I hope to let you see, that you have trusted a Roman, a person that had rather be the object, than the minister of their Cruelties, and would not be accessary to such a misemployment of Absolute Pow­er, [Page 11] to be made a Sharer in it.

As soon as Septimius had ended these words, he did, to prevent those ac­knowledgments he saw Didymus was about to make him, take that gal­lant Youth by the hand; and lead­ing him towards the place, where he expected to find the Soldiers he most confided in, he entertain'd him in the way about the hopefullest Expedients for the compassing of his admirable Mistresses Rescue. And having af­terwards sent for the two persons, he thought likeliest to be prevail'd on, to a convenient place, near to that to which they had brought Theodora; he brieflly, but pathetically, declar­ing to them, how much the brave Didymus was his friend, and how much he deserv'd to be so, enflam'd them with an indignation at the savage Presidents disgracing them, by so infamous an employment, as they were now about; and then as­sur'd them of rewards from Dydimus, suitable to the liberality of so gene­rous [Page 12] a Person: After which with­drawing himself, to give Didymus a short account, how far he had pro­ceeded, he left the rest to be com­pleated by him; who prompted by his native liberality, and his high concern, did not stay to cheapen his Mistresses Liberty, but with the ha­sty Passion of a Lover, proffer'd them more than even Septimius's promises gave them reason to expect: Nor would he have declin'd to embrace any Articles of Agreement, they could have propos'd, though the parting with his Life had been one, so Theo­doras Deliverance were another.

The sence these soldiers had of the affront put on them, by the Presi­dent, joyn'd with the Ambition they had to please their lov'd Commander, and the gratitude his friends profus'd Bounty had newly oblig'd them to; made them quickly accommodate Didymus with a military Habit, and prepare some of their Comrades to allow him the first admittance into [Page 13] her Chamber; partly by sharing some of the newly receiv'd Presents among them, and probably by re­presenting him to them, when thus prepar'd, as a person who having been passionately in love with Theo­dora, and been scornfully slighted by her, was desirous at any rate, to sa­tisfie at once his appetite and his re­venge. And by this means, before that short time was expir'd, that had been as an Act of Grace, allow'd the disconsolate Virgin, to deliberate whether she would yet comply with the Judge; an entrance into her Chamber was permitted to her Lover; who (in order not only to his present but further Design) had purposely closed the vizor of his Hel­met; upon which score, not being knowable by his fair Mistress, he met with from her the reception we have formerly related.

CHAP. II.

THough, in the sad Condition wherein our disguis'd Lover, found his desolate Mistress, her sor­row and her fears, did somewhat cloud her Beauty, yet they could not hinder her looks from being so charm­ing & majestick, as to create less pitty than respect. Wherefore with ge­stures, wherein this was as visible as he could make it, he told her, without approaching too near; Do not, Madam, I beseech you, add to your other troubles, the apprehension, that because I appear in the circum­stances of a Ravisher, I come to com­mit a Rape: Theodora is so great an ornament to the Christian Religion, and her Purity is an ornament so dear to Theodora, that Heaven will not permit, either that Antioch should [Page 15] be rob'd of one, or she of the other. And therefore, that Providence which you have so generously trusted, has sent me to your rescue, which after the care I have taken to dispose things without doors, 'twill not be difficult to compass, if you please to make use of the Military Habit I have brought hither, disguise and convey your self hence. Nor need you be solicitous, what will become of me, for I am under the same care of the same Providence, that now justi­fies your reliance on it, by providing for your escape: And I that found means to come in hither, may be succesful in attempting a Retreat, or if I should not succeed in it, I shall not miss the joy of paying my Duty, where I had the most desire and cause to do it; and shall leave the world with the satisfaction of having highly oblig'd it, by the preservation of the most accomplish'd Person in it. And Madam, (continues Didymus) that you may not doubt the willingness or the intentions wherewith this of­fer [Page 16] is made you, be pleas'd to know that it comes from the now fortunate Didymus, who justly thinks that in aspiring to your acceptance of it, he does less proffer a service, than beg a favour, that will not only be a full Recompence, but a high Obliga­tion.

The name of Didymus, and Dis­course so suitable to it, made by him that assum'd it, soon dissipated the dismal apprehensions his habit, and her circumstances had given her: She knew so well his Courage, his Vertue, and his Love, that nothing unlawful or mean, was to be fear'd; but the boldest things, if they were as noble as hazardous, might justly be expected, from him: So that this attempt did perhaps as much oblige her, as it surpris'd her. Wherefore, as soon as she had recompos'd her lately disorder'd thoughts, she told him, with looks serene enough to let him see how much she trusted him; This action, generous Didymus, is of [Page 17] a nature so extraordinary, that my ingratitude would be so too, if my sense of it were not. To own and rescue a persecuted and affronted Maid, and to do it with more hazard than you need run in the Roman Ar­mies, to purchase Fame and Honours, in an action so disinteressed, and so unexampled, that I want words to celebrate it, as well as merit to de­serve it, and power to requite it. But I admire so rare an effect of Vertue, (continues she) can consent to the destruction of its Author. No, Ge­nerous Didymus, 'tis enough that the vertues▪ of Christians be treated as crimes by the Romans: They must not meet the like usage from The­odora; she must not purchase a life, that she values as little her self as others have cause to do, at so high a rate, as your partial Charity persuades you to set upon it. For even those that do now most pitty me, would repine at the preservation of my life, if it should cost that of a Heroe. E­specially, if I should designedly be [Page 18] accessory to so great a Loss: Which accompanied with a publick Indig­nation, and my own Reproaches for my Ingratitude, would certainly make that Life a Burden to me, that at so dear a rate you would preserve as a Blessing. But—

Here Theodora was going to pro­ceed, when her griev'd Lover, fear­ing that if she did so, she might make some Declaration unfavoura­ble to his Wishes, thought fit to en­deavour to prevent it, by saying to her with a profound respect. Ah, Madam, do not make your mista­king Compassion more cruel to me, than the severity of the Romans themselves, which we Christians justly Tax, can possibly be. For they will but in a few moments take away that Life, which you would at once protract and render Miserable. Do not, I beseech you, Madam, (continues he) think my services Meritorious, because they are paid you in this place, and in your Per­secuted [Page 19] Condition. No, Madam, Theodora has Prerogatives enough, to make many less unworthy (though not more zealous) than I, ambitious to serve her, in what Circumstances soever Providence shall think fit to place her. What­ever the Romans, that worship For­tune and Victory as Goddesses, and find their Prosperity the powerful­lest Argument to support and spread their Religion, may think of Suffer­ings embrac'd for Conscience sake: sure we Christians, that adore a Crucified Saviour, who, as he took upon him the form of a Servant, was put to Death between two Thieves, as a Slave and a Malefactor too; ought not to let any Persecutions, or Indig­nities, lessen our Veneration or Con­cern for those that chuse to Suffer for him, and imitate as well as own him, whatever it cost them. Nor, Madam, (pursues Didymus) needs your having been brought to this place, make you think your self at all dishonour'd, in the Opinions of [Page 20] those that can make just Estimates of things. They look on Sufferers for truth with His undeceiveable Eyes, that, by one of the Pen-men he in­spir'd, having mention'd those Per­sons that for Religions sake were Im­prison'd, Destitute, Tormented, Affronted forc'd in the Skins of Beasts, to wan­der like them in Desarts, and lodge in Dens; Honours them with this Character and Testimony, more glorious than all the Panegyricks of Orators, and Laurels of Conque­rors, That the World was not worthy of them. And such Judges will think Venus an Infamous Courtezan, though the Romans adore her in their Temples; and will not think Theodora the less excellent Person, for having been condemn'd on the score of Vertue to a Scandalous place. Honour were a mean thing, and not worthy to have its loss much fear'd, or regretted; if we could forfeit it without having forsaken Vertue; and much more, if we could be depriv'd of it for having closely follow'd [Page 21] Her. Nothing can blemish true Reputation, that cannot be declin'd without manifest injury to Religion, which justifies our Acting whatever it imposes. The Angels themselves that were sent to Sodom, scrupl'd less to go even thither, then to dis­obey him that made it their duty to do so, nor were polluted by entering into that abominable place; and be­ing attempted by the brutish Inha­biters of it, carried thence the Angelical Purity wherewith they came thither.

Didymus thought fit to say what has been repeated, that he might Console so chast a Virgin as Theo­dora, who had still enjoy'd, as well as merited, a spotless Reputation; by assuring her, that the barbarous Affront she had been expos'd to, for Constancy to her Religion, had not, among unbyass'd Judges, lessen'd the high Esteem her former Life had justly given them of her Vertue. But he would not discourse long of [Page 22] a Subject so Nice; that 'twas diffi­cult not only to insist on it, but so much as to mention it, without be­ing uneasie to so tender a Modesty as hers he was speaking to. Upon which account, passing on to ano­ther Argument, he told her, These things I have mention'd, Madam, to let you see, how little I can pre­tend to merit by the Circumstances of the duty I pay you; and conse­quently, how little you need scruple to accept of my further Service, without which my past Endeavours will be useless to us both. And give me leave to own to you, Madam, that 'twas not without much trou­ble, as well as surprize, that I heard the incomparable Theodora's Merit so much injur'd, as to have the valu­ableness of my Life put into the Ballance with that of hers, nay, and made to Preponderate. Alas, Ma­dam, there are Legions, that as well as I dare expose their Lives to the greatest hazards, and run greater dangers for some despicable pay, or a [Page 23] sew worthless Leaves, than I do to serve my Religion, and the fairest Professor of it. Every day affords thousands of such Men as I: Else the Roman Camps would not be so frequently Recruited, and those Numbers that fall in Breaches, or in Battels, would not have their Rooms so ambitiously supplied, by Men that see them do so. But such Persons as attain to be both the Or­naments of their Religion, and the Honour of their Sex, must be so Ex­cellent, and are so Rare, that 'tis not every Age that produces so much as one of them. Such Exemplary Ladies, do as well improve as eno­ble the times and places they live in: The respect and love Men have for them, makes their good Counsels very persuasive; the loveliness of their Persons is so diffus'd to their Actions, as, by making Men forward to take them for Examples, adds to to their Vertues, both a great Splen­dor, and a powerful Influence. That Theodora is not only one of that small [Page 24] Number, but eminent in it; no­thing but her Presence, could keep it from being uneasie for me to evince. But, Madam, (continues he) though in such Circumstances as mine, your scrupulous Modesty may keep Men silent, yet it ought not to keep them from being Just. Your profound Humility may draw a Curtain, that may hide your Ver­tues from your Eyes; but in the Eyes of others, it cannot but en­crease their Number, and exceed­ingly add to their Lustre. You need not therefore, Madam, (pursues he) scruple to receive the Service I a­spire to do you, upon an injurious apprehension, that 'tis above Reward; whilst indeed it pretends not to any at all, except the Satisfaction and Honour, that will be inseparable from the performance it self. Here Didymus paus'd for some moments; being sensible, how difficult a task he was entering upon: Since 'twas, without prejudicing his Love, to own to his Mistress her self, that he [Page 25] did not serve her upon the score of That. But however; the sincerity of his affection, and the great desire he had to make his persuasions preva­lent, hasten'd him to prevent her Answer, by thus prosecuting his Di­scourse: 'Tis true, Madam, that Theo­doras perfections did not miss in me, to have the operation that they are wont to have, upon those that enjoy the opportunities of considering them: and if she had been in a distress greater than that she is now in, though her Religion had not at all contributed to bring her into it, I should joyfully have expos'd my self, to a greater hazard than I now run, to rescue her from it. But, Madam, that is not our case; for that which now brings me hither, is none of those sentiments, that if I were possessor of a Crown, would bring me to lay that and my self at your feet, and think my self more happy in your acceptance of it, than in all the advantages and pre­rogatives that could belong to it. For, Madam, the resolution that led me [Page 26] hither, was not inspir'd by the fair, but by the devout and vertuous Theo­dora. If she had no Charms, but those that cannot be seen with bodi­ly Eyes, or if her visible Beauty were but moderate, or none at all; her Exemplary Piety and Unshaken Con­stancy, shining in such extraordinary Expressions of them, as she has this day given, would make me think my self unworthy of Life, if I should stick at hazarding it to save so precious a one, as hers, and what I knew she would far more unwillingly loose; and thereby do some right to Divine Providence, which, by so unexampled a reliance on it, was thought in some sort engag'd to answer so uncommon and entire a Trust. After what she did for Christ, I did not think I could do enough for her, if I did less than I have endeavour'd to do. And there­fore, Madam, (concludes he) I hope as well as beg, that you will no longer scruple to accept of that rescue, that Providence offers you, by an unmer­cenary and most wlling hand, but will [Page 27] to make use of this Military Garment (at which words Dydimus with great respect, pointed at His) and allow my endeavours, by procuring your safety, to secure my happiness.

To this moving Speech, the fair person, that 'twas address'd to, re­turn'd this calm Answer.

Though the handsom and obliging things you have been pleas'd to say, Generous Didymus, have made all the impressions on me that they ought to have; yet I must, with your par­don, freely tell you, that they natu­rally afford an inference, quite oppo­site to what you would conclude from them; since, by discovering more and more of your Gallantry & Friend­ship, they let me still further see, how much the World would loose, by be­ing depriv'd of so much Vertue, and how unexcusable I, above all others, should be, if I should be willingly accessory to that loss. Your too too excessive Complements, I must not [Page 28] pretend to answer; since 'twould be too great a reflection on Your Judg­ment, as well as Mine, to think you meant them for any thing more than what I have call'd them. But in an­swer to the serious part of your Dis­course, I shall tell you, that, if I had proceeded in what I was going to say to you, when you interrupted me, I had, perhaps, prevented some of the things you have said, by free­ly acquainting you (as I now mean to do) with the state of my Case, and the intentions it suggested to me. When the inhumane President (continues Theodora) had condemn'd me, either to offer Sacrifice in an Idol Temple, or be led away to this infamous place; I was in such a per­plexity and agony as can hardly be conceiv'd, especially by a Per­son that is not of my Sex; for Death it self was thought too mild an evil, to be one of those, among which I was condemn'd to make my choice. On the one side; the infamy of this detestable place was that which [Page 29] I could not think on, without the ut­most horror and indignation: and not only my Sex and Breeding, but even the Dictates of more than one Vertue, (Modesty and Chastity) con­curr'd to highten my abhorrence of it. But on the other side; I remem­bred, that I did not vow Obedience to God with any exceptions or re­serves; that I was both a Disciple and a Worshipper of a Persecuted and Affronted Redeemer, for whom (though there were not an infinite Inequality between our Conditions) I could not suffer more, than he had already suffer'd for my sake; ha­ving not only endur'd the Cross, but despis'd the Shame, which the Jews insolent Malice, and the Romans Barbarous Custom, had annexed to it. And I thought that, perhaps, Providence had led me into this di­stress, to give me an Opportunity of shewing, that I could do more than die for Christ. But I must not now trouble you, with the various thoughts that distracted my Mind [Page 30] on this dismal occasion; on which all that I could say, to those that rudely press'd me to give a positive answer, was, that of the things they propos'd, I plainly saw that both were to be refus'd, and there­fore I could make choice of nei­ther. But since I would make no Election for my self, their Malice soon made one for me, of this detest­able place. I was so confounded, and as it were stunn'd, at the first steps they forc'd me to take towards it, that I scarce knew what to think, or what I did; save that I remem­bered, that Idolatry was in the Sa­cred Books represented as a most odious, though Spiritual, Fornicati­on; and that Apostacy would be my own Crime, whereas the Conse­quences of refusing it, could make me but the Object of anothers: And remembring my self to be a Daughter of him, that against Hope believed in Hope, to follow God's Call, I did like him, Obey, not knowing whither I went: Yet having this Sa­tisfaction, [Page 13] that I acted according to the Dictates of a well inform'd Con­science, so that, whatever the way might prove, I need not fear to be misled by closely following an Infalli­ble Guide.

Here the Chast Virgins words were a little interrupted by the flow­ing Tears, and the inevitable Dis­composure, that were produc'd by the sad remembrance of the di­stress'd Condition she was recount­ing. But having, as soon as she was able suppress'd, those visible effects of her vertuous Grief, she thus pursu'd her Discourse.

Revolving these and the like thoughts in my Mind, I arriv'd at this infamous place. And being for a while left alone in this Room, to try whether yet I could be brought to change my Mind; the nearer ap­proach of what I was to endure, making it look more hideous to me, than, till then, I thought 'twas pos­sible [Page 32] for any thing to appear, made me presently think of flying for Re­fuge to the dark Sanctuary of Death; and by dispatching my self drown in my yet untainted Blood, both my own dismal fears, and my Persecu­ters brutish hopes. But then there came into my mind, what I had been often taught, and, whilst I was un­concern'd, judg'd rational to believe, of the unlawfulness of Killing ones self, upon any account whatsoever. I consider'd, that God, who made our Love unto our selves, the standard of the affection we owe our Neigh­bour, in forbidding us to destroy an­others Life, must be suppos'd much more to prohibit us that violence against our own. And if Fratricide be justly listed amongst the blackest Crimes, because of that Relation the slaughter'd persons have to those that Kill them; how Criminal upon that score must be the Murder of our selves, where the Relation is not nearer, only because 'tis too near, to be properly any at all? The Sove­reign [Page 33] Author and absolute Lord of our Lives, having thought fit to em­ploy us here in his Service, we can­not, without violating our Duty to him, desert it until we have per­form'd his Errand, which is, to glo­rifie him by our Lives; till loyalty to his Truth, or his Commands, convince us, that we may better glorifie him by our Deaths. Such Considerations as these would, I hope, have restrain'd me from end­ing my Life with a Crime; but the thoughts of it were quickly sup­prest, by my remembering that in this place, I was destitute of Instru­ments to act it with. Wherefore remembring that Daniel had been preserv'd, though not from the Lyons Den, yet in it; and his three Friends were not deliver'd from the Fiery Furnace, till they had been cast into it; and having learned by those Ex­amples, that no Succours can come too late, that God designs for our Rescue, I betook my self to Prayer, as the most hopeful, as well as the [Page 34] most innocent course, I could take; and with an ardency, heighten'd with the extremity of my Distress, I was beseeching God, though with the loss of my Life, to preserve a Pu­rity, that by his Grace had been hi­therto kept unblemish'd, when your unexpected entrance brought me a return of those Prayers, I had yet scarce utter'd. Judge then, Gene­rous Didymus (subjoyns Theodora) by the Condition I was in, how much I must think my self Oblig'd, by so brave and seasonable an at­tempt to deliver me out of it.

To serve so bright a Vertue, lodg'd in so noble a Shrine, I thought, Ma­dam (says Didymus, Interrupting her) to be as much my Duty, as to have found an Opportunity to do it, is my Happiness: and if you please to permit me, as I now hope you will, the Honour and Satisfa­ction of compleating my Endea­vours to deliver you; I shall much more value my self, upon the having [Page 35] paid you that Service (though it be more proportionate to my power, than to my desires) than if I had rescued a Roman General, or for suc­cessful attempts, been made one my self.

When Thanks are purchas'd by Merit, replys Theodora, to disclaim a right to them, does not forfeit it, but encrease it; nor need you make me any new Professions, since after the Testimonies you have given me already of your Vertues, and your Friendship, I should make my self unworthy of them, if I doubted of their Reality, or Greatness. Yes; Didymus, I believe what you de­clar'd, of the Disinterestedness of your proceedings in the Rescue of a Per­son of no greater Merit, than I can pretend to: Since the Circumstances of your Attempt, make it appear too generous to let me suspect, that the Aim of it was other than noble too. And indeed, after what you have done (continues She) it would [Page 36] ill become me to scruple to be fur­ther oblig'd by you, and therefore I shall venture to make you a Re­quest, as soon as I shall have ac­quainted you with the Reasons, 'tis grounded on.

Didymus being surpriz'd at this welcom Declaration, was going with Transports to assure Her, he could deny her nothing, nor obey her in any thing without Joy; when she prevented him, by thus continu­ing her Discourse. You know, my Generous Deliverer, that Virgins have so great and clear a Right to keep themselves such, against all outward Assaults; that Monarchs themselves (whose Force is not to be by force oppos'd, when it tends but to de­prive us of our Lives) may be forci­bly resisted, when they strive to of­fer Violence to our Chastity. Since then, an untainted Purity is a Jewel, that the Possessors are allowed to preserve and defend, even by uncom­mon ways, if others will not serve; [Page 37] and such as would in other Cases be unwarrantable: Though I do not, as I lately told you, think it lawful, as many do, to secure Virginity by Self-Murder; yet I cannot disap­prove their Opinion, that allow a Virgin in case of Extremity, to em­plore that Death from anothers hand, that she is forbidden to give her self, with her own; since in such a Calamitous Condition, Heaven, by debarring her all other ways of esca­ping from Defilement, seems to ap­prove of this. And the Scripture informs us, that though the Pro­phet Jonas held it unlawful to drown himself, yet he persuaded those that Sail'd with him,Jonah 1. 12. to cast him bound into the Sea, when neither they nor he expected he could out-live many Minutes (as indeed 'twas not with­out a Miracle that he did.) Where­fore, pursues Theodora, if you will perfect what you have so Obligingly begun, you must lend me your Arm and Sword, to free me by a speedy [Page 38] Death, from mischiefs much greater than it. The Romans will easily be­lieve, that my resistance and provoca­tions transported you to a Revenge, at which the barbarous usage I have receiv'd at their hands, makes it un­likely they will be much offended: The grant of my request will not hinder you from being, what you are pleas'd to think a Title, Theodoras Deliverer. For, in the estimation of Equitable Judges, as well as in Hers, 'twill suffice to give you a right to that Title, That you have deliver'd her from her geatest Calamity and Danger. Nor will the good office I desire, be inconsistent with my obtain­ing the Honour of Martyrdom: St. John the Baptist, because his bold Zeal for the Laws of Religion, gave the first rise to those Persecutions that terminated in his Death, is justly reckon'd among Martyrs, though he was privately beheaded in his Prison, at the solicitation of a Curtezan: and if one willingly suffers death for the Truth, or the Interest of Religion, [Page 39] there needs not a Scaffold or a Stake, and a publick Executioner, to make such a person a Martyr. And since the Persecutions that now make ha­vock of the Church, are like to con­tinue long; and since I am resolv'd, by Gods assistance, never to avoid them, by any either unlawful or un­handsom way: the Escape you would persuade me to, would but for a while delay those Sufferings I ought not to shun, and would make them much less acceptable, by my having endeavor'd to avoid them; especially by an action so mean, if not criminal too, as to consent to the loss of an excellent Person, that most generously expos'd himself for my safety. Deny me not therefore, concludes Theodora, with Tears in her Eyes, the last request I shall ever make you; but by sheath­ing your Sword here, (at which words she pointed with blushes, at her fair and innocent Breast) be pleas'd, by one quick and charitable Stroke, to perfect my deliverance, without making me Stain it with the [Page 40] Blood of my deliverer; free us both from eminent Danger, me of being Dishonour'd, and you of being Tor­mented; and by the same Act of Friendship, secure me the Coronet of Virginity, and procure me the Crown of Martyrdom.

Great was the Surprise, and greater was the Trouble, wherewith Didy­mus heard the conclusion of this Di­scourse: In answer to which, as soon as his astonishment would permit him to speak; Ah Madam, says he, what have you ever seen in the unfortunate Didymus, that could tempt you to make him so strange a proposition. That I, whose Errand hither was to ven­ture my Life in your Service, should my self destroy the admirable Per­son I came to Rescue; and that Didymus should imbrue his guilty Hands in Theodora's innocent Blood, to save one drop of which, He would gladly shed all his own. As your Piety deserves to be the Pattern of more than one Age, so I doubt [Page 41] not, but that in times very remote from ours, your Memory will shine as bright, as your Vertue and your Eyes do now; and then, how hide­ous a Monster must I appear to Po­sterity, that will look upon me as one, that could in a trice, pass from pretending to be your Deliverer, to be really your Murderer; and this for no other Reason, than that you were pleas'd to manifest a great concern for my Preservation? And pardon me, Madam, (continues Didymus) if I tell you, that your Generosity makes you forget some of your other Vertues, and even of the Dictates of the Religion you have hitherto adorn'd; Since your Commands, if obey'd, would en­gage me to commit a Crime, and make you your self, more than ac­cessory to it. For, Madam, since you acknowledg Self-Murder to be unlawful, how can your Commands give me a right to take from you, a Life, that you have not power to dispose of? and what Excuse can I [Page 42] have, without so much as the pre­tence of acting under Authority, to destroy an Innocent Person? For, Madam, since I am to declare, why I presume to do the thing in the World I would least be put upon, to disobey Theodora; give me leave to tell you, that, should I execute what you require, the Action would not be excusable in either of us. For as Adam sinn'd in doing a forbidden thing, though she that prevail'd with him to do it, Was first in the Transgression; and the Jewish Pro­phet was torn in pieces by a Lion, though he did what he was seduc'd to, by the persuasions of a Prophet: So the Scripture clearly condemns David of Murder, because he kill'd Ʋria, though not with his own hand, yet with the Sword of the Children of Ammon: And the Scripture tells us too, that God plagu'd the Chil­dren of Israel in the Wilderness, be­cause, as the Text expresses it, They made the Calf, that Aaron made. And indeed, by whatever Hand in­nocent [Page 43] Blood is shed, the Guilt of it will light upon the Person that procur'd it to be spilt. And to this I must add, That since Christians are in some cases, not only permitted, but Exhorted, if not Commanded, To lay down their Lives for one ano­ther: The high value and concern, I justly have for yours, makes me conclude, that this is certainly one of those Cases, and consequently, that I may lawfully offer you a Ser­vice, which you, perhaps, cannot lawfully refuse: Since Providence has left you no other Innocent way, than the acceptance of it, to escape your present danger. And the guilt of Self-Murder may, for ought I know, be Contracted, not only by a posi­tive Act, but by an Inflexible refusal of the proffer'd means of Safety. Pardon me, I beseech you, Madam, pursues Didymus, if the great Con­cern I have for such a Person as Theo­dora, has Extorted from me, a greater plainness of Speech, than my pro­found Respect for Her would per­mit [Page 44] me, upon any other occasion. And because I perceive that, that which makes you most scruple to grant my humble Request, is, That your Superlative Generosity, and what your Humility persuades you to think Gratitude, make you soli­citous for the preservation of a Life, hazarded for your sake; I must as­sure you, Madam, that your Inflexi­bleness will no way make provision for my safety. For, if I should be Condemn'd by your cruel Com­mands, to leave you expos'd to the barbarous and defiling rudeness of those Brutish Satyrs, that impati­ently wait without, the regret and shame, of having mis'd the Honour of Theodora's Rescue, will give me far greater Torments, than the Ro­mans can, for having effected it. And I must add on this Occasion, Madam, (continues he, not with­out some change of Colour and Voice) that some Sentiments (which though I think not this a fit time or place to name, have been much Con­firm'd [Page 45] and Heightned, by what I have this day had opportunity to observe) have so fast tied my Hap­piness to your Welfare, that the presence of my Soul is scarce more necessary to my Life, than your Safety is. Nor fancy, Madam, that the belief I own of the unlawfulness of Self-Murder, will secure my Life: for there are other ways, to procure Death to him that's weary of Life, than his own Sword, or a draught of Poyson; since Passion alone, when rais'd to a competent degree, may do the office of either of those. And since Joy it self, though the most pleasing and friendly of the Passions, has by its Excess, prov'd destructive of Mens Lives; why may not Grief, and Shame, and Indigna­tion, which are Passions more vio­lent, and very unfriendly to Na­ture, be able to produce as fatal Effects? And to shew you, Madam, (continues Didymus) how much reason I have to think, that your Condition dispenses me from obey­ing [Page 46] the Dictates of your Generosity, let me.—But, before Didymus had annex'd his Reasons, a Noise made without, gave him a hot Allarm, and made him fear, the pa­tience of some that waited without, would not last very much longer; and therefore addressing himself to Theodora, with a Countenance as Petitioning as his Words, and Eyes, in which his Courage could scarce repress the Tears: How long, Ma­dam, says he, will you upon ground­less Scruples, neglect an Opportu­nity, whose Omission will be Irre­parable. And how can you justifie to God, the slighting the means His Providence presents you, of easily securing your Safety. Ah, Madam, then (concludes Didymus) by one quick and necessary Resolve, regain your Liberty, preserve your Honour, and secure your Life. But if no­thing that has relation to your self alone will move you, be pleas'd to reward the Services I have Essay'd to do you, with the implor'd grant [Page 47] of your own Safety; and permit me for this once, rather to Serve you than Obey you. Nor need your gene­rous Solicitude for me, hinder, or re­tard your Resolution: The World will not blame a Spotless Virgin, for doing what is necessary to keep Her self such; nor look upon it as a part of Ingratitude, to grant, to one that has done his best to serve Her, a Re­compence, that he is so ambitious of, as to venture his Life to obtain it at her Hands. In short, Madam, for the time allows me not a long Dis­course, if your Cruelty will not per­mit me to prevent your Death; Grief, and other Passions, will not allow me to survive it: And then, (supposing I should fail of making retreat) would it not be a much more happy Fate, that the constant Didymus should Die, for having sav'd the matchless Theodora, than for ha­ving lost Her?

CHAP. III.

TO these pathetick Words he thought not fit to stay for an an­swer, but retiring to a corner of the room, he divested himself of his milita­ry Coat, and upon his knee, presented it to Theodora. She in the mean time, reflecting upon his Arguments, was by their force, convinc'd, that the motion she had made him, of kil­ling her, was grounded upon a dan­gerous Error. And the noise that had been made, in the outward room, alarming her, at least as much as it had done him, let her see she had no further time left her to deliberate. And therefore, being prevail'd with, by supplications, made in so persuasive a way, that it appear'd a far less cruelty, even towards him, to accept, than finally to refuse, his offer: She [Page 49] first made her Blushes, and her silence intimate her consent, and then de­clar'd it more expresly, by raising him, and taking out of his hand what he presented to her. And to his joy (which his foresight that his success would be fatal to him, could not hin­der from being very great) she re­ceiv'd from him instruction how to put it on, and permitted him (though not without strange disorder in her mind and looks) to assist her: For as it was absolutely necessary to do it; so he did it with all imaginable care, to distress so nice a Modesty, as little as was possible: And therefore, as soon as ever he had done that, with all the respect and decency the place and occasion would by any means permit, all that could be done with­out him, he left her to do herself, withdrawing to a part of the room, whence he could not see her. Which Retreat he was induc'd to make, not only out of civility and respect, but perchance because the dangers that threat'n internal Chastity, have this [Page 50] peculiar fate, that usually those per­sons are most careful to shun them, that are the most resolv'd, and the best able, to surmount them.

As soon as the mutual Exchange of their habits had made it decent for them to discourse together, the dis­guis'd Virgin, with Cheeks cover'd with Blushes, and with looks so ob­liging, that they alone would have re­compenc'd Didymus for any less ser­vice than that she now receiv'd, ad­dressing herself to her Benefactor; If your Reasons, saies she, had not convinc'd me, that I could not with­out a crime free my self from my wretched Condition by death, and if yet death were not the only way, by which, if I decline your generous prof­fer, I can possibly shun, what I far more apprehend than death, dishonor; I should not leave you in a danger, wherein only your concern for Reli­gion and for me, has engag'd you. But I doubt not the same Charity, that put you upon making me your [Page 51] generous proffer, and pressing me not to decline it, will make you pardon a fault, to which your own Reasons and Importunity have made you highly accessory; especially since I know you think a tenderness of Ho­nor, and an abhorrence of all Defile­ment, to be things so allowable in a Virgin, as very much extenuate, if not justifie, what they require of her. And indeed I shall do you but right, when I thankfully acknowledge, that in this whole transaction about my Rescue, your carriage has been such, as would leave me no doubt, if ever I had been so unjust as to have any, of the purity & disinterestedness of your intentions, by which I am not a little confirm'd in the opinion I have alwaies had, That Vertue may inspire as Noble and as Hazardous Enter­prises, as Passion can. I know that in this daies work, you aim'd at high­er Retributions than could be ex­pected from one in my Condition. But yet I think my self oblig'd to as­sure you, That your Heroick Acts of [Page 52] Vertue and Friendship, have not been exercis'd towards a Person insensible of them; but that your Merit, and your Favors, have produc'd all the esteem and other Sentiments, which they ought to produce, in a Person, that is not altogether incapable to dis­cern and value them. And if the Pray'rs of a disconsolate Virgin, then sav'd by you, when all the rest of the World had abandon'd her, can have any interest at the Throne of Grace; they will obtain for you, Blessings as great as your generosity to me has been; and not less lasting, than my Sense of it will be; and you will, during a long protracted life, either be allow'd quietly to enjoy the Glory, your many meritorious Hazards of it have purchas'd, or else be enabled to find a happiness in your very Suf­ferings, by vertue of those peculiar Consolations that are reserv'd for a persecuted Condition; as anciently Manna was vouchsafed the Israelites, only whilst they were Exiles in the Wilderness. The quick success God [Page 53] has been pleas'd to grant my Pray'rs for my own deliverance, lets me not despair to find him propitious, to those I shall with no less ardency put up for yours: But if your Charity should expose you to further danger, I solemnly promise you, that you shall find, I have been instructed, as well as oblig'd, by your generosity, and would not have left you expos'd for my sake, that I might shun any danger that had threat'ned but my life.

And now the mournful Virgin, be­ing to bid her accomplish'd Vo­tary a farewel, which probably enough would prove the last; by a manifest change in her countenance, and the tone of her voice, and by the multitude of tears that fell from her fair Eyes, convinc'd him no less of the trouble she was in upon his ac­count, than any verbal expressions could do it; though she said to him, in a most obliging manner, Farewel my Generous Deliverer; and may [Page 54] that God, who sees with what re­luctancy I consent to your danger, free you happily from it, and richly recompense that noble Charity that led you into it. I hope we shall yet see one another again upon Earth. I am confident we shall meet joyfully in Heaven; by which I must confess my self very highly favour'd, not only in my Deliverance, but in the instru­ment of it; since God makes me not beholden for my Rescue to any com­mon person, but is pleas'd so to order it, that I receive the greatest of earth­ly Benefits, from the most Generous of men.

Madam, replies the much troubled Didymus, your own unequal'd per­fections, and the operation they have had on me, make me so much yours, that your wishing me happy, does more towards the making me so, than your humility will allow you to be aware of. You have too much Merit, Madam, to let the Ser­vices I have paid you, have a title to any; and what I have had the hap­piness [Page 55] to perform, is but what was every brave man in Antioch's duty to endeavor. But if your Goodness will needs make you think, that my poor Services should have another (for they can scarce have a greater) re­compence, than you have already given them, by suffering them to cont­tribute to your safety; and if you will vouchsafe to allow the memory of him that did them, a room in your thoughts, (which is the happiest Sta­tion it can aspire to upon earth:) I humbly beg your faithful servants Image may be look'd on without any troublesom degree of pity; since his condition will then need none, and the Idea would very much misrepre­sent the Original, if it should disquiet her, whom he never approach'd, but to serve Her. 'Tis suitable, Madam, to this frame of mind, that for Theo­doras sake I must now deny my self so much, as to hasten her departure, least some cross accident should pre­vent it: At which words, looking on her with a countenance that all his [Page 56] Courage could not keep from a di­scernable Change: Farewel, said he, incomparable Theodora, may you con­tinue long the Ornament and the Pat­tern of your Sex: And since we see that some Fruits may be as well pre­serv'd in Honey, as others in Brine and Vinegar, may the height of your Vertue be kept up, but the objects of it so chang'd, that by a settled Pro­sperity you may henceforth haveoc­casion to exercise your moderation and your gratitude, instead of your courage and your patience. Once more Farewel, concludes he, unequal'd Theodora; and may you live but with as much Contentment, as if I suffer for you, I shall die with Satisfacti­on.

Though these moving Expressions, and the accent wherewith they were deliver'd, did very sensibly touch a person so well natur'd and grateful as Theodora; yet she thought the fit­test return she could then make to her Lover's discourse, was, presently [Page 57] to follow the advice he was so earnest to have her speedily embrace. And therefore, bidding him farewel only by a look, wherein high degrees of sor­row and gratitude were plainly ming­led; she immediately dispos'd herself to quit that dismal place: Which then afforded a noble instance, how little a great mind can be hindred from disclosing it self to be so, by the Stage 'tis oblig'd to act upon. For whilst in divers of the stately Temples of Antioch, Whores, (such as Venus and Flora,) and Ravishers, and A­dulterers, (such as Jupiter and Mars) were solemnly ador'd; in an infa­mous Scene, dedicated to publick Lust and Violence; the strictest Chastity was exercis'd, and Martyrdom it self was contended for.

Having once ventur'd into the out­ward room, That Providence, to which she had in such discouraging Circumstances trusted her Virgin Purity, would not leave the rescue of it, incompleat; but whilst the wait­ing [Page 58] Ruffians were eagerly contending, who should succeed the person they took by the Habit to be Didymus, (and whose face they did not wonder to see muffled, presently after so savage an action as they suppos'd him to have committed) brought her safely out of that infamous Place. Whence, by the least frequented Passages she knew, she was was quickly convey'd to the house of her dear Friend Irene, which happen'd to be nearer than her own.

There to avoid suspicion, some of her friends and relations were met to­gether, to lament her Captivity, and join in Prayer to him that alone could deliver her, to be directed by God how they might (if it were pos­sible) contribute to her rescue. But, though their Prayers were probably made with more zeal than hope, they were not a little alarm'd, when look­ing out to see who knock'd at the door, they saw, as they thought, a Soldier, who would not have been [Page 59] quickly let in, if Irene had not presum'd it to be Didymus, who was coming to offer his Service to his captivated Mi­stress. But 'tis not easie to express the wonder and the joy, with which they soon discover'd that this was not Theo­doras Lover, but herself; whose Beauty and her military Dress, would have made her, had the Roman Guards discover'd her, pass for their Pallas. Nor was such a Habit, though im­proper for a Virgin, unsuitable to a Great, as well as Chast Conque­ror.

But though her presence never needed the endearment of a Surprise, yet the unexpectedness of it at that time and place, added to the Tran­sports it produc'd; especially in Irene: Who after a thousand gratulations and caresses, at length begg'd in the name of the impatient Company, to know how the blessing they all re­ceiv'd in her freedom, was procur'd. To which reasonable request she answer'd, by making a short but faithful Nar­rative, [Page 60] of what had occur'd since the time she was cited before the Presi­dent, till she came to take Sanctuary among them; piously concluding, that, as what she had done not misbe­coming a Christian, was altogether by the assistance of Divine Grace, so the succour she receiv'd to bring her out of danger was by the Conduct of Divine Providence, which in her delivery made use of the high vertue and generosity of Didymus. This Re­lation made the Company first return Thanks and Praises to the Divine Goodness, which were followed by the celebrations of the happy Instrument of it: every one, as it were by turns, endeavouring to vye, who should most commend so ventur­ous & disinteressed a Lover. Nor per­haps did Theodora her self, inwardly dissent from that gratefull company. For, though her modesty and reserved­ness kept her from declaring her Senti­ments, as others did theirs; yet per­haps that was because She thought, that having given a Candid account [Page 61] of his deportment, her Narrative had made her praises needless, the History it self being indeed a Panegyric.

After the Companies curiosity was somewhat satisfied by what Theodora had told them, and both Irene and she had made a request to a Gentle­man that knew Dydimus well, to en­deavour to bring them speedy notice of what had happened to him, or was like to befall him: The two ex­cellent Ladies retir'd to the apart­ment of Irene. There the pious The­odora, having devoutly paid her so­lemn Thanks and Praise, for her almost miraculous Deliverance, to the Divine Author of it; she was accom­modated by her Friend, with Cloaths befitting her Sex. Nor was it difficult for Irene, (though on so sudden an occasion) to furnish her with a Habit she liked for besides, that a Person so shap'd and fashioned as Theodora, could make almost any dress Grace­ful; she us'd to pity the mean vanity of those Ladies, that could be either [Page 62] Ambitious or Proud of what they must owe to a Taylor or a Dresser, and affected to be taken notice of, not so much for what they are, as for what they wear: And therefore, tho' she did not scrupulously decline fashionable Clothes because they were so; yet all the Ornaments that pass'd the limits of the modestest De­cency, she alwayes as little valu'd, as she needed them.

CHAP. IV.

BEfore this rare Couple return'd to the rest of the Company, Irenes kindness for Didymus made her think, she ought not to loose this op­portunity, of doing good offices to her absent Friend. And therefore having (as she easily might) brought the discourse to fall upon his late per­formances; I hope, Madam, sayes she to Theodora, you are now satisfi'd, that the Character I gave you of the greatness of my Cousins Vertue, and the Ardency of his Flame, was dictated more by his Merit than my Friend­ship. I were very ungrateful, re­plies Theodora, if I did not willingly acknowledge his Generosity to be al­together extraordinary, and that, as he could not oblige me more highly than he has done, so it was not pos­sible [Page 64] that he should do it more hand­somly.

I know, Madam, saith Irene, that Theodora may freely choose among all the illustrious Youth of Antioch, what person she would please to make hap­py: And, without considering her less obvious, though more admirable, Perfections; far less Beauty than she is Mistress of, has in our times, given the Possessors a share in the Imperial Throne, and perhaps too, plac'd them upon the Roman Altars. But yet, con­tinues she, since I have the honour to know you too well, not to be confident, that you value Piety and Vertue, and a Flame regulated and excited by them, above those outward advanta­ges which weaker Spirits are influ­enc'd by; I think I may presume to say; that I know not any person in Antioch, to whom the fair Theo­dora may with less Condescension vouchsafe a Share in her Favour, than to him, that had the happiness to give her so clear a proof, of the ar­dency, the purity, and the disinte­restedness of his Flame.

[Page 65] If I had not, reply's Theodora with a somewhat dissatisfy'd look, been much surprised at the begining of your Discourse; I had immediately stop'd you there: And lamented my infelicity, that Irene, whom I thought my self happy in having for my Friend, allows her self what is so repugnant to true friendship, as flat­tery is. I could, continues Theodora without pausing for fear of being prevented; easily, and with the appro­bation of many of the best Judges in Antioch, return the fair Irene her own Complements, if I thought fit to imitate what I cannot approve. And to Speak seriously, continues She, neither you nor I, nor any of our Sex, ought to think Skin-deep Beauty as great a Blessing, as 'tis an applauded one. For without our fault, and in Spight of our care to preserve it, a Thousand accidents may, and time certainly will, ruine the Loveliest Faces; and perhaps to that degree, as not in the remains to leave it credible that ever they were [Page 66] hansom. 'Tis true that those vain Men, whose Passion masters their reason, are wont (for the most part with designs we ought not to be proud of) to Speak extravagant things, and too often even prophane Ones, of the beauties they profess to adore. But though they really meant (which they very seldom do) all they say, in praise of those they represent as Goddesses; yet I think a considering person will scarce be very proud of receiving that Title, from those who can think that a few Colours and Features luckily mingled, are sufficient to make a Deity. An uncommon de­gree of Beauty, adds she, exposes the owner to extraordinary troubles, from the Envy of those that want it, and the Importunities of those that court it. And, without as much caution and watchfulness as turn it into a trouble, it too often proves a strong Temptation to those that admire it, and a dangerous Snare to those that possess it. And if I [Page 67] had the vanity to think, what you would persuade me to believe, I should yet take Beauty in a woman, to be like a rich Perfume; which though it be a thing very grateful in most companies, and perhaps (especi­ally at first) very delightful to the wearer, yet does often discompose, not only strangers she chances to converse with, but the best Friend she has; and not seldom does mis­chief even to herself, by disordering her head, or casting her into fits of the mother. I beg your pardon, Dear Madam, says the fair Irene, with somewhat of sadness in her looks, that whilst I had so much Beauty in my eye and thoughts, I forgot, that it was in Theodora ac­company'd with a far greater and scrupulous Humility; and I did not apprehend that I could be thought guilty of Flattery, so near to a witness (at which words she pointed to a Looking-Glass, that hung up in the Room) ready to justifie more than I had occasion to say. I will­ingly [Page 68] acknowledge with you, that the amiableness discoverable by the Eyes of every gazer, is a thing far less desirable than desired: And procures the possessors more praise, than it brings them happiness. And for my part, adds she, if I had the weakness to beleive my self Mistress of what the folly of some had made them flatter me with, yet I should not be over much pleas'd with a Quality, that would add to those harms my frailty makes me guilty of, those which I never intended; and makes Ladies so mischievous, to those that most love them, that even when they do not rob men of their Innocency, they deprive them of their Quiet. I confess therefore, Madam, (continues Irene) that it was injurious to insist upon the praises of a face, when, how little soever it can be Match'd in its own kind, 'tis accompanied with Several Beauties of a much nobler kind. But that which induc'd me to speak as I did, was, to let the fair Theodora see, that I was justly sen­sible, [Page 69] how great a thing I begg'd for my Friend; when I implor'd for him an interest in Her Favour. And I do the less despair of the ef­fects of your Goodness, both to him and me, because I beg them for an absent friend, who is not in a condition to speak for himself; and who, as I perceiv'd by the ob­liging Relation you were pleas'd to make, of his Carriage towards you, declin'd making you any re­quest, when his Services were so happy as not to be useless to you. His silence, answers Theodora, in such circumstances, had more ef­fect on me, than his passionatest solicitations would have produc'd. But the thing, I presume, you aim at, for him, is of that moment to me, that I cannot think fit to di­scourse of it, till we can do so with more calmness and leisure, than we can at this time expect. You know, Irene, that I have still look'd upon Marriage as one of the most important Actions of Life: And, [Page 70] though I think they have too mean a notion of Happiness and Misery, who imagine, that one Creature can make either of them the porti­on of another; yet I think, that not only the dictates of discretion, but those of sincerity and chastity, oblige a woman to have a great care, not to enter into so near and indissoluble a Relation, upon any grounds, that are not like to last as long as it, (and consequently, as our lives:) And therefore, a woman that resolves to be what she should be, when a wife, ought to delibe­rate much upon a Choice she can probably make but once; and not needlesly venture to embarque her­self on a Sea so infamous for fre­quent Shipwracks, only because she is offer'd a fine Ship to make the long Voyage with. But, continues the bashful Virgin, (not without some little disorder in her looks) since my dear Irene will needs make use of the priviledge she has, to know more of my thoughts than I would disclose to any other per­person [Page 71] in the world; our friendship prevails with me to tell her, that if I were altogether at my own di­sposal, and could be induc'd to ad­mit such a change of condition, as I have alwayes been averse from; I should be more influenc'd in my choice by the shining Vertues and Extraordinary Services of Didymus, than by all the Advantages that either Titles, or Riches, or Dignities, could give any of his Rivals. But, my Dear Irene, (adds she) we live in such times, and I, for my own particular, am beset with such Cir­cumstances; that 'twere not only very unreasonable, but wildly ex­travagant, for me to encrease my Commerce with the World.

For, Irene, continues she, in my opinion, a Christian does not deserve to be happy, and a true one can­not think he is happy, whilst the Church of Christ is miserable: At least, as far as outward Calamities can make it. When I see the Em­pire [Page 72] over-run with Idolaters and Persecutors; when I see Ravishers and Whores, ador'd instately Tem­ples, and the only Worshippers of the True God driven into Corners, and pursu'd even thither; when I see such as God is pleas'd to declare the World not to be worthy of, Heb. 11. 38. treated by men as persons not worthy to live in the World; but daily expell'd out of it, with ignominy and torments: When I say, (adds Theodora, with tears in her Eyes,) I consi­der the general Desolation of the Church, and that I am like and willing to be, not a meer Spectator, but a suffering Actor, in this Tra­gedy; I cannot, in the midst of Her Sighs and Groans, listen to the un­seasonable Complements of a Lo­ver, think of relishing any Con­tentment, that descends not from a place too high for Persecution to reach. In these Sentiments, sub­joins she, I am warranted, by no less Authority that than of an A­postle; [Page 73] who, though not unfa­vourable to the Marriage State, disadvises those women that are free, from entering into it, at least during the present distress; though that were in his time, very much inferiour to those straits we are now reduc'd to. Yet, Madam, sayes Irene, those expressions of Friendship, that a Conjugal Rela­tion invites, are not only made al­lowable by it, but commendable; and are as real duties of Piety, and Vertue, as divers of the more ab­stracted Exercises of Religion. I do not contradict that, replies Theo­dora, but look upon that very thing, as a disswasive, from the state of life, you would recommend. For, if I could think fit, to enter into it, it should be with a resolution, to do all that becomes me in it. And in such a calamitous Time as we live in, I could not do that, without coming far more than I now am, within the worlds reach; since I should think it my duty, and perhaps be engag'd [Page 74] upon another account, to have such apprehensions for a near friends danger, as my own would be unca­pable of giving me. And the Con­tentment I now enjoy, in a disposi­tion to quit the world without re­gret, would be destroy'd, or at least allay'd, by an uneasiness to part with, what duty and inclinati­on would, perhaps, too much fasten me to. Here Irene was going to interrupt her by an answer; when her fair friend prevented her, by thus continuing her discourse: And to me it seems very considerable, that the Apostle I lately mentiond, clearly enough intimates, that to persevere in a Virgin-State, in times of Persecution, gives those that pre­fer it, the great advantage of ser­ving God more undistractedly; and consequently of being more entirely and uninterruptedly imploy'd, in the direct Contemplation and Services, of an Object so Sublime, that our mind cannot divert to another, with­out stooping to an inferiour one. [Page 75] And though it be true, that the du­ties of a Relation, may rightfully challenge a part of an engag'd per­sons time and care; yet I see not why one that has no need, should enter into a Relation, that would make those distracting Duties ne­cessary.

Though Irene found it scarce pos­sible to answer Theodoras Reasons, yet her kindness to her absent friend, made her unwilling to lose the opportunity their privacy gave her, to make one attempt more in his favour: Which she did, by saying to his excellent Mistress; But shall not the as faithful as unhappy Di­dymus, be allow'd to hope, that if once those dismal Clouds that pour down show'rs of Blood, shall be happily blown over, he may have a particular share in the publick joy and Tranquility; that his Suffer­ings shal end with the Persecutions of the Church; that those fatal re­solutions, that are so destructive to [Page 76] his happiness, may cease with their occasion; that Theodoras Severity will not out live the Roman Cruelty; and that her heart will not be the last place, where the Emperours cruel Edicts will continue to have a fatal Operation.

Alas Irene, says Theodora, some­what troubled to be so press'd; how unseasonably do you now discourse to me, about things relating to a time, to which very probably my life will never reach. For, Sub­joines She, to deal clearly with you; I am so far from flattering my self, with an Expectation of those Hal­cyon dayes I wish you may live to see, that I shall not be surpriz'd, if this day prove the last I shall Spend in this World. And if before Night, I pass thence into another; where the frailty and Mortality, upon which Marriage was founded, cea­sing, that condition of Life will have no Place; but will be Succeded by an Angelical State, where our [Page 77] Friendships, as well as our Persons, will be Transfigur'd, and made In­comparably more Perfect than they can be here below.

CHAP. V.

THeodora had Scarce made an end of saying this, when her Conversation with her fair Friend was Interrupted, by the notice that was given them of, the arrival of a Gentleman of their Religion, who brought some News that it Con­cern'd them to know. This ad­vertisement soon brought back these two Excellent Ladies to the rest of the Company; to which this Intelligent and Inquisitive Person was going to give an account, which the Sadnes of his Looks prepar'd them to find an unwelcom one. However; they listen'd to him with [Page 78] great attention, as well as Concern: and He after a short Preamble, briefly acquainted them with some particulars, that will hereafter be more fully related. But that which he himself seem'd most mov'd at the mention of, and which most af­fected his hearers, was this; That when the President had notice of Theodora's escape, though there wanted not some Generous Men, that endeavour'd by severall Argu­ments to diswade him from prosecu­ting her any further; Yet he was so far from being prevail'd with, to Comply with so reasonable a mo­tion, that he solemnly Protested, that if ever he could get this Fugi­tive (as he was pleas'd to call, that admirable Person) once more into his power, he would never strive again to reclaim her by the fear of Infamy, (a thing which, said he, I perceiv'd She despis'd) but by the terrour of death; Suppo­sing, as he added, that She would not fly from an Altar, to a Scaffold, [Page 79] a Stake; and resolving, in case She were inflexible, to Sacrifice her to the indignation of those [...]cens'd Deity's She had so Obstinately pro­vok'd.

The former part of this Discourse, which related to Didymus, his Ex­cellent Mistress heard not, with out such inward Commotions, that in Spight of the Calmness and reser­vedness of her temper, they clearly enough disclos'd themselves in her face, by several Changes of Colour, which those that had lately admir'd the greatness of her Courage, could not but ascribe to that of her con­cern for her distressed Lover. But when the Relator had concluded that part of his Narrative, that di­rectly regarded her self, tho' it fill'd all the Auditors with grief and terrour, Theodora seem'd to have gain'd a new life; Since in her looks, the visible tokens of a deep sadness, were succeeded by no less manifest Signs of joy.

[Page 80] While the rest of those to whom the Melancholy account was given, were entertaining one another with the reflections they made up­on it; Irene having drawn her fair friend aside, was impatient to learn the cause of that pleasing change, she had observ'd in her looks.

Whilst, answers Theodora, I was listening to the report of the Emi­nent Danger, which the Generous Didymus was Expos'd to for my Sake, I could not but be Extreamly Troubled, to find my Self restrain'd from attempting his Rescue, by the manifess: Danger, of being by the Barbarous President sent back to the infamous place, whence your vertuous friend had ventur'd so much to free me: But now that the Judge, by a Solemn Declara­tion, has tyed up his own hands from tempting me, by so justifiable a fear as that of Infamy; 'twas no wonder, my Looks disclos'd some Tokens of a joy, grounded upon so [Page 81] welcom an opportunity to exercise my Gratitude Without hazarding my Honour.

What? Theodora! saith Ierene, as it were Thunder-struck with this unexpected answer; do you put so small a value upon that won­derful Deliverance, that scarce an hour ago you did so devoutly and deservedly give Thanks for, that you will so soon rush into greater dangers, than those that requir'd little less than a miracle to rescue you from them?

I hope, replies calmly Theodora, that I shall never forget, nor with­out a deep sense remember, the ad­mirable rescue you speak of. But I take the most gracious part of that Deliverance, to consist in my being rescu'd from Dishonour; and think it would be much less obliging than it is, if it debar'd me from the surest and directest ways to Glory; and if, to preserve my external Purity, it did [Page 82] condemn me to Ingratitude, towards the meritorious Instrument of that Preservation.

Our Lives, saith Irene, being trusted to us, as well as vouchsaf'd us, by God; are not so much at our own disposal, that 'tis allow­able for us to part with them, as we think fit: And 'tis possible for us to abandon them, not only when we do directly and violently rid our selves of them, but when we do those things, whose natural Conse­quence is an untimely Death.

I believe with you, saith Theo­dora, that our Lives are to be reckon'd among those Goods that we are entrusted with, rather as Stewards than unaccountable Pro­prietors; and acknowledge too, that certain actions, that do not di­rectly, may yet criminally, tend to their destruction. But I do not think the care of our Lives is com­mitted to us, as that of our Souls [Page 83] is, with so indispensable an obli­gation to keep them; that it can never upon any terms whatsoever, be lawful for us to loose them. For, I think Life to be a Talent, which is indeed to be carefully husbanded and preserv'd; but is committed to us, not so much to keep safe, as to negotiate with; and is en­trusted to us in order to a condition better than it self. And therefore, if Religion, or Vertue, require any thing at our hands, which cannot be perform'd without endangering, or even loosing our Lives, in that case to venture them, or to part with them, is a duty; and consequently at least a justifiable action: And this pursues Theodora, I take to be my case; who am summon'd by Faith­fulness to a just Promise, and by Gratitude to an extraordinary Be­nefactor, to endeavour the saving of an innocent Person, who is ac­cus'd on my account, and has brought himself into a great dan­ger, only for having most obliging­ly [Page 84] Rescu'd me from a greater.

But what, replies Irene, if the at­tempt you design, is far more likely to destroy you, than to save Didymus? For the barbarous Judge, is so much an Enemy to all Christians, as such, and so much incens'd a­gainst You, for your Escape, and Him for having been the Author of it; that the Cruelty of that inexo­rable man, will make him gladly destroy you both, as far as humane pow'r and rage can do it. And so, without preserving to the Church of Antioch, one of its Ornaments, you will deprive it of another, and a greater; by denying it the In­fluence it might receive, by so last­ing and Exemplary a Vertue, as may justly be expected in a person so pious, and so young, as Theo­dora.

The Experience, answers Theo­dora, that this very day has afforded me, forbids me to distrust Divine [Page 85] Providence; and keeps me from despairing to find my endeavors to rescue your Kinsman, succesful; if the Most Wise and Good, as well as Absolute Disposer, of Events, shall not think it less our advantage, to be repriev'd than crown'd. With­out presuming therefore, to foresee Events, 'tis my part to do what God has vouchsafed to put into my power: and 'tis not my duty to rescue Didymus, but it is to attempt it; and thereby acquit my self as far as I am able, of what I owe to my promise, and my gratitude. If I had the vanity to think, adds she, that in a person of my Sex and Frailties, such a Church as that of Antioch, could be much concern'd; I should think too, that the attempt I am about to make, were the best way to make my life somewhat significant. For, whereas our hea­then Adversaries are so blinded with Prejudices, that they look upon all we do or suffer for Christianity, as the effects of a kind of Supersti­tious [Page 86] Frenzy, that seizes us, and tran­sports us, whenever the Articles of our Faith are contended for: My exposing my self to their fury, ra­ther than be wanting to the dictates of Gratitude, which they, as well as we, look on as a Moral Vertue, may help to convince them, that our love to Vertue is general, and more disinterested, than they thought it: Since Christians can venture and part with their Lives, as well to shun Ingratitude, as to resist Idolatry.

This gratitude, (replies Irene) whose excess gives you and us, so much trouble, is a relative thing; and Benefits or Services receiv'd, ought to be requited by Actions, that are acceptable to those, they are design'd to gratify; but sure, not by such, as we know will be unwelcome to them. And therefore, (continues she) the faithfulest, and most disinterested of your Ser­vants, will be far more unhappy, [Page 87] than the Roman Cruelty can make him, if what he has done, doth not convince you, that he can never look upon any thing, as a favour or retribution to him, that shall destroy, or so much as endanger, his adored Mistress.

I were very unworthy, (rejoins Theodora) if I did not think Didy­mus capable of the highest Senti­ments that generosity and friendship can inspire. But he is too just, to forbid those he loves, to aspire to some share of those noble Quality's; upon whose account, I am to con­sider, not so much what his Vertue will relish, as what his condition requires; there being a sort of Debts, to which mine to him belong, that ought to be the more carefully paid, the more frankly they are remitted.

The sorrowful Irene, being exceed­ing troubled, to see her endeavours unsuccessful, on an occasion, upon [Page 88] which of all others, she most wish'd to find them prevalent, was promp­ted by her grief, to bring her Eyes to the assistance of her Tongue; and weeping, said to her inflexible Mistress; If, Madam, you will not have any compassion for the excel­lent Theodora, at least take some pity upon the disconsolate Irene; and if her Arguments cannot move you, be not at least inexorable to her Fears. You have, (continues she) vouchsaf'd me the honour of your friendship, and the happiness of your conversation; and by both these blessings, have given me so much esteem and kindness, for so great a Benefactor, that if you deny me, what I now implore, you will turn the noblest parts of my happi­ness upon Earth, into instruments of my Infelicity; since, in a World depriv'd of Theodora, the desolate Irene, will Languish, rather than Live, if she should be able to sur­vive so great a Loss.

[Page 89] Theodora, whose Resolution and good Nature were both of them extraordinary, though she had courage enough to support calmly her own personal Sufferings, yet she had tenderness enough to be very sensible of those of her Friends. And the moving expressions of the sorrowful Irene, together with the Tears that accompany'd them, made such an impression on her, that though, having foreseen this Storm, it did not surprize her, yet it did much distress her, and let her; see, how many uneasie Victories she was to gain, before she could trium­phantly compleat that days work. And though after a short, but sharp, Conflict, between her kind­ness and her Resolution, the latter of them prevail'd, yet, 'twas not without some Reluctancy and Com­motion, that she was able to return this Answer. Ah, dear Irene, do not exercise so much Cruelty your self, whilst you reproach me for being Cruel; and do not add to [Page 90] the great affliction of parting with such a Friend as Irene, that of seeing her so much troubled on my ac­count, and of seeing myself necessi­tated to the uneasie Task of deny­ing a Request of hers. If what I owe to my Religion, and to your generous Cousin, would suffer me upon any terms, to alter the Resol­ves it prompted me to; the delara­tion of your desire to have me do it, would have made all the Argu­ments you employ'd to perswade me to it, unnecessary. 'Tis true, that among Vertuous Friends, kind­ness may challenge much, but not to the prejudice of Conscience and Reputation. I hope our Friendship is not, and am sure it ought not to be, barely a mutual fondness of two young Virgins; but that ver­tue had a gteater share in making and continuing it, than Sympathy and Inclination had. And 'tis but just, that a friendship, grounded chiefly upon Vertue, should be govern'd and regulated by it. Per-Permit [Page 91] me therefore (pursues she) with that freedom and plainness, that our Friendship allows, to put you in mind, that in the straits wherein Providence has now pla­ced us, it calls upon us to consider, not only that we are Friends, but, that we are Christians too; who ought in reason, as well for our de­parting as our departed Friends, to listen to the Apostle of us Gentiles, 1 Thess 4. 13. who forbids us, upon the removal of those we love, to give up our selves to Sorrow, as those that have no hope. Indeed, if we were Epicureans, that believe the Soul as mortal, as the Body; or such other Pagans, as bury in the Graves of their Friends, the hopes, or at least the confidence, of meeting them again: we could scarce too bitterly deplore a Sepera­tion, that would certainly, or at least for ought we knew, prove an Eternal one. But having, through the goodness of God been embracers of the Gospel, and enabled, though [Page 90] but imperfectly, yet sincerely, to live according to its Dictates, and be ready to die for its defence; the same Grace may keep us from fear­ing, that the time of our separation will be lasting enough, to bear any considerable proportion to that Eter­nity, which will be allow'd us to enjoy each others Company in. And give me leave to tell you, Irene, that I cannot rejoice at any expressi­ons, even of your kindness, that are injurious to your Piety, and bring your love of me, into a competition with that, which ought to be as un­parrallel'd as its Object is. They love a Creature too much, that think it too good to be parted with, for the Creators service. 'Tis a high injury to him, to think we can lose any thing for him, that he cannot make us a rich amends for. And I must not conceal my Opini­on, that a Christian disparages both himself and his profession, if he com­plains, that any loss can make him unhappy, while he possesses the [Page 92] favour of God. Wherefore, my dearest Irene, (concludes She) let your Friendship alleviate my Grief, by shewing me how handsomly you bear your own; and prefer, I beseech you, upon this sad occasion, the Exercise of the more generous, to That of the more tender, Effects of Kindness.

Alas, Madam, says the distress'd Irene, all the fine things you say to comfort me, produce in me, an Ef­fect quite contrary to that you de­sign by them; since they do but the more discover the Excellency and Kindness of the incomparable Person I am going to be depriv'd of; after whose company, I shall find that of the rest of the World, too insipid, so much as to divert me: and therefore, if you will not grant me the Blessing of Living with you, at least do not deny me the satisfaction of Dying with you. For, though Martyrdom be very formidable to a frail Woman, yet [Page 94] Heaven is more desirable to a Chri­stian; and I shall not fear to take a Scaffold or a Stake in my way, when I travel to such a Place, as That, in such Company as yours.

You know, (replies Theodora) as well I, that our Religion com­mands us to suffer Martyrdom, when we are oblig'd to do it; but forbidsus to thrust ourselves unne­cessarily upon so fatal and difficult a work: The Apostles themselves, whose peculiar Office it was, to be the Heralds and Champions of the Gospel, were commanded, when they were persecuted in one City, to fly into another; and according­ly one of the most couragious of them, to avoid needless and un­seasonable dangers,Act. 19. 25. fled to Jerusalem from Da­mascus; though to do so, He was fain to be let down from the wall of this Place in a Basket. And 'tis but reasonable, we should not, without a manifest Call of Pro­vidence, [Page 95] venture upon a Conflict, in which we do so much depend upon extraordinary Assistances for the Victory, that the same bold Disciple, that so confidently pro­mis'd our Saviour, that He would die for Him, was in an hour or two, the first that renounc'd him. An inspir'd Teacher, who was am­bitious to be, as He afterwards prov'd, a Martyr, reckons it to be the Gift of God, not only to Be­lieve in Christ, but to Suffer for that Belief. If (continues She) our Conditions were exchang'd, and Irene, instead of me, were by Di­vine Providence singl'd out for Mar­tyrdom; I should not envy Her the Glory, of letting many of both Reli­gions see, that Christianity can elevate the Courage of a Woman, to a degree that they think appro­priated to Men. I would employ my Prayers rather to obtain of Heaven, a divine Support of Her Resolution, than an inglorious Change of It. And imitating that [Page 96] well natur'd Israelite, who, not on­ly willingly but gladly, parted with his dear Ester, when She went from Him to a Throne; I should be more satisfied with Irene's Ad­vancement, than with Her Com­pany: And if I did not prefer Her Happiness to my Own, it would be, because indeed I should look upon them so united, that I should find Mine in Hers. Let me then (says Theodora) conjure you, by all Our past and future Friendship, ra­ther to congratulate, than lament, the Remove I am going to make. And be not troubled, that One whom you have been pleas'd so much to Love, is call'd to be early happy. In such hazardous times as these, you know not how soon a Persecutor's Sword may send you after Her. And at most, this Mor­tal Life is too short, to let our Sepa­ration be very long. And in the mean time, the comfortable Expe­ctation of an unchangeable state, of whose Blessedness the renewed Frui­tion [Page 97] of each other, will make a Part, and not the greatest neither; may Console you for the absence of a Person, that in the interim will be happy enough to wish You where She is, upon much juster grounds than you can wish Her where She was. Let it then (concludes Theo­dora, with weeping eyes,) be a suf­ficient proof of my Esteem and Love of Irene, that I part from Her with Tears, when I am going to a Place, where the Divine Ora­cles assure us,Rev. 7. 17. that all Tears shall be wip'd from our Eyes, and be suc­ceeded by a Fulness of Joy, Psal. 16. 11. that shall last for evermore.

CHAP. VI.

THough these Reasonings were such, as Irene knew not well how to answer, yet, being uncapable of acquiescing in any Discourse, that inferr'd it to be her duty; to part with Theodora; she resolv'd to try, whether the perswasions of the company, (which she knew, would be very forward to assist her) would not be more prevalent, than hers had been: And that seem'd an ac­cident very. friendly to her design, that just then happen'd, by the arrival of an intelligent Gentleman, whom she had a while before em­ploy'd to learn News of her Friend; and who, on that score, had been a curious and heedful Spectator, of all that had pass'd, at the presidents, in relation to Didymus, and was [Page 99] come to bring Irene an account of it. To hear this, she and her sor­rowful Friend were desir'd to rejoin the rest of the company: To which, the high and just esteem they all had of so brave a Gentleman, as Didymus, gave an impatient desire to be inform'd of his Adventures. To satisfie this Curiosity, the Gen­tleman that was to do it, did, after a short pause, make them the fol­lowing Narrative.

I suppose this company needs not be informed by me, of what hap­pen'd to the generous Didymus, be­tween the time, that the excellent Theodora was condemn'd to an in­famous place, and that wherein he had the happiness, of helping her to make an escape out of it. And therefore without wasting any of that little time, whereof, I fear, we may have but too great need, I shall proceed to inform you, that when this astonishment, occasion'd by this Surprize, of finding a Young man [Page 100] in the escap'd Virgins Room, was a little over, and they had cloath'd Didymus in a habit more decent, to appear in, before a publick Assem­bly; they led him away to the Judge: to whom some of them related, maliciously enough, what had pass'd earnestly begging Justice of him, against a Person, who (they said) could not but be a Christian; and who was not content, to be himself an Offender against the Laws, but had dared to rescue another Offen­der, from the Punishment to which they had doom'd her.

Against this Charge, the undaun­ted Didymus being ask'd, what De­fence he had to make, addressing himself to the Judge, made this re­solute answer. I stand accus'd of a twofold Crime, of being a Chri­stian, and of Theodora's Rescue: And though I cannot so soon have forgot, how heinous my Accusers have endeavour'd to make them appear, yet, instead of denying either [Page 110] of them, I shall own, that I glory in both.

As for Christianity, in an Age, wher­in it is so cruelly Persecuted, I would not have embraced the profes­sion of it, but that I was resolv'd, if there were occasion, to suffer for it. And therefore I shall neither deny what they call a Crime, nor make an Apology for it, nor depre­cate any Infliction, (for so I call it, rather than Punishment, which still supposes a fault) where­to it can expose me. Nor could I, without being wanting to the duty of Humanity, refuse my assistance, to preserve the purity of so noble a Shrine of Chastity, as the Savage designers of a Rape on Theodora, were going barbarously to violate. And the inward satisfaction of ha­ving done what became me on such occasions, will support me under any Sufferings, that shall be drawn upon me, but by my Loyalty to persecuted Truth, and my com­passion of distress'd Vertue.

[Page 102] The experience I have had, (an­swers the President) of the effects of those desperate Errours, you mis­call Religion, makes me inclinable enough, to think, that you, as well as many others of your wild Sect, have both Madness and Impiety enough, to put off the Apprehen­sions, as well as the other common sentiments, of Human Nature, and fear Death, as little as you do the Gods. But since you pretend to be more vertuous Men, and obedient Subjects, than others; pray tell me, what you can say, for your rescu­ing a Malefactor, out of the hands of those Ministers of Justice, that were going to Execute the sentence of Condemnation upon her.

If, (replies Didymus) the Sen­tence you speak of, had doom'd her but to Death; though I should most gladly have suffer'd it in her stead, yet I had deplor'd your Cruelty, without attempting to defeat it. But I confess, I could not without [Page 103] Indignation, as well as Grief, see such a person as Theodora, who for her Beauty, Vertue, and other Per­fections, is justly admir'd by all that know her, and look'd upon as the honour of her Sex; most injuri­ously condemn'd to so infamous and barbarous an usage, as were unfit for the meanest and despicablest of Creatures, that belong to the Sex, (whereof she is the Ornament.) And considering with my self, that Chastity in Women, and especially in Virgins, is so much a Vertue, and their right to preserve it, so confes'dly inhaerent, that all Nations agree, in ascribing to them a right to defend it, without reserve, against whosoever attempts to deprive them of it; I concluded, that to help a distressed Virgin to preserve so ac­knowledg'd a right, was to defeat Ravishers, rather than to oppose Magistrates, and not commit a Crime, but hinder the accomplish­ing of one. Nor could I think, that 'twas against the Roman Judges I [Page 104] acted when I oppos'd Persons, whom their Savage design made me look upon as the worst sort of Barbarians. And I did not doubt Sir, (continues Didymus) that in your own Breast, when calmer thoughts shall come there, to succeed those that lately possess'd it, I shall be absolv'd from an action, which kept you from dishonouring your self as much, as the execution of your Sentence would have defil'd Theodora; and kept you innocent as to Act, from what would have made you Ene­mies for ever, not only of the fairest half of Mankind, but of all those of our Sex, that retain any Sparks either of Vertue, or good Nature.

If Theodora, (replies the President) were not a Beauty, and one of your obstinate Sect, I doubt you would never, for her sake, have adven­tur'd upon so desperate an Attempt, as makes you, not more Disobedi­ent, than Obnoxious, to the Law.

[Page 105] I see not, Sir, (rejoins Didmuys) why it should be a disparagement to Theodora's Beauty, or to the im­pressions I have receiv'd of it, that all that it has engaged me to do, has been, with the utmost hazard of my Life, To rescue her Purity, and deny my self, in the first place, the advantages I endeavour'd to de­prive others of. But the Charms of her Mind, needed not those of her Face, to make me attempt to preserve her. I have often in Camps contended, not without ha­zard enough, with my victorious fellow-Soldiers, to keep them from violating the Chastity of Captives, who had neither Beauty to Capti­vate others, nor any thing else to engage me in their Quarrel, except their being innocent and distressed Women. But Theodora; setting her Beauty and Birth aside, has been so eminent, for all the good Quali­ties and Excellencies that can ac­complish a Person of her Sex, and especially, for her Chastity, that [Page 106] my Heart would have reproach'd mefor, not prizing Vertue enough, if I had declin'd so happy an Oppor­tunity, to express the veneration I paid so shining a one, as Hers. But, (pursues Didymus) I would not by what I have said, be thought to de­ny, that my Religion had a share in the attempt I made to serve a Person, that did so much adorn it, and was so loyal to it. The Chri­stian Doctrine, among many other excellent things, that it prescribes to its embracers, teaches them, that in some cases, among which ours is compriz'd, they Ought to lay down their Lives for one another. 1 John, 3. 16. But Sir, (concludes Didymus) you may be pleas'd to take notice, that what I acted, was according to the Rules of it too. For I did not oppose the Execution of your cruel Sentence, by force, but only prevented it by an innocent Stratagem, whereby my ends were obtain'd without Bloodshed or Violence; no Mans [Page 107] Life having been so much as en­danger'd, except my own; which I never thought my self bound to preserve from any Danger, that Piety or Humanity summon'd me to undertake.

Though the President could not but be sensible, that Didymus had said more for himself, than was ex­pected; yet, that he might not be thought to be satisfied with the De­fence of a Person, whom he meant to condemn, he told him; I do not think it strange, that those who dare call the very Worship of the Gods, Superstition and Idolatry, and and that which all Men but your selves call Impiety, Religion, should stile Rebellion against the Magi­strate; Loyalty to the Truth. But how industriously soever you strive, not only to cloak a Criminal action, but transform it into a Vertuous one; I can easily, through all its disguises, percieve the disobedience and refractoriness to Civil Govern­ment, [Page 108] that is so contagious, and so spred among the embracers of your Sect; that Princes have no other way, but your Ruine, to se­cure their own Safety, which would be quickly endanger'd, if your power and numbers were half as great, as the disloyalty of your Prin­ciples and Practices.

To be a Sufferer for my Religion, (answers Didymus) is that, which I shall not so properly submit to, with Resignation, as Embrace, with with Joy. But to find my Religi­on a sufferer with me, if not for me; and to see Christianity made a State Crime, while it severely pro­hibits and condemns all Crimes, and none more expresly, than diso­bedience to the just commands of Magistrates; is that, which, I confess, do's not a little trouble me. And therefore, Sir, I hope you will allow a Person, that is much more concern­ed to keep his Religion than him­self, from being endanger'd by this [Page 109] Accusation; to give you a righter apprehension, than our Calumnia­tors have done, of the innocentest, as well as the truest, Religion in the World.

Though for my part, (continues Didymus) I think, that the liberty of serving God, by such ways as are not repugnant to the Light, or Laws of Nature, or the welfare of civil Society's, is the common right of Mankind, and cannot be denied Man, without Injustice; yet I do not now plead for it: and you are more concern'd to look to that, than I. For if you make me suffer, for the innocent use of that Right, which God and Nature have granted unto all men; I shall but undergo a Transient Punishment, but you will expose your self, to an Eter­nal, and (which is worse) to a de­served one. No Persons in the World, can pay more Obedience to the Laws of their Superiours, than Christians do. We that can [Page 110] shed the Enemies Blood, and ha­zard our own, as freely, and per­haps as succesfully, as any Soldiers in your Armies, suffer you to shed ours, as tamely as any sheep you have in your folds. And sure, we are very unhappy, as well as you very incredulous, that those Pro­fessions of Loyalty and Obedience, that are not more visibly written in our Books, than frequently sign'd with our Blood, cannot gain Credit with you; nor our death it self convince you, when the wounds that we quietly suffer to pierce our Breasts, would open you Windows into our hearts, if some had not a greater mind to peirce them, than to know them. But the same just care we have to obey Authority, what rate soever the submissions cost us, forbids us to do those things, for the refusal whereof, Authority condemns us. For God being, as the only Creator, so the Supreme Governor of man, his Laws are those of the truest Supreme Autho­rity: [Page 111] and Princes themselves being his Subjects, and but his Lieutenants upon Earth; to decline their com­mands, when ever they prove re­pugnant unto his, is not so much an Act of disobedience to the Subordi­nate power, as of Loyalty to the supreme and universal Sovereign. And in such cases we are no more Rebels against the Emperor, when we prefer the performance of Gods Laws, to a compliance with His, than we should be, in case we should disobey the orders of the Governour of the Province we live in, if they should prove repugnant to those of Augustus. And even in these cases; if we cannot yeild an active obedi­ence to the commands of the civil Sovereign, we do not refuss him, the utmost we can consent to, which is passive obedience: and when our consciences permit us not to do, those to us unlawful things, that he com­mands, they enjoin us to suffer un­resistedly, whatever penalty's he pleases to impose. And give me [Page 112] leave Sir, to add, (so Dydimus conti­nues) that we are so far, from ma­king Religion a Cloak to the pur­suit of present advantages, that you daily see us renounce them all, and our lives to boot, to maintain our Loyalty to our Maker, without hopes of being recompens'd, but in another World; and even there we cannot expect any, but by the sen­tence of a Judge, whom none can either bribe or deceive, and who is more severe to crimes, than any Persecutor on Earth can be, to Inno­cents. I will not tell you, pursues Dydimus, that on the other side, the assurance we have of the inestimable rewards laid up in heaven, for Loy­alty to God and his Truths, and the internal applauses of a good conscience, are things of so eleva­ting and satisfying a nature, that our Religion can make the hearts it possesses, not only detest the Ambi­tion of those Subjects, that aspire to Earthly Crowns, but perhaps, pitty the condition of those Princes, that [Page 113] possess them. But I dare, Sir, a­vow, that the harmlesness of our Principles, is not more legible in our Profession, than in our Practi­ces and Sufferings. For the multi­tude of Christians is so great, that [in your Cities, your Coun­try, Tertul. your Courts of Justice, your Camps, and all places of Publick Resort, except your Temples, they are not only pre­sent, but numerous;] and your E­nemies, as well as your Armies, have been sufficiently convinc'd, they know as well how to Kill, as Dye; so that 'tis only because we will not forfeit our Innocence, by a forbidden way of defending it, that we are expos'd to such cruel Suf­ferings for it. And I doubt not but equitable Estimators of things will conclude, that our calmly submiting to such inhuman Usages, sufficiently shews, that we do not deserve them.

[Page 114] The Judge, discerning still more clearly, that his discourses made much less impressions upon Didy­mus, than those of Didymus did upon the Hearers; resolv'd to break off this kind of Conversation, and with a stern Countenance, told the Pri­soner, that 'twas high time for him to remember, that he was a Judge, and not a Priest; and that therefore, though his compas­sion had hitherto invited him to employ Persuasions, yet now their unsuccesfulness oblig'd him to de­clare positively, that he was sure the gods, that he and the world worshipp'd, were the true ones; and that if Didymus did not forthwith acknowledge them to be so, by Sa­crificing to them, he should quickly feel their power, by being put to a death, his obstinacy made him both deserve, and appear fond of.

Didymus, without seeming to be at all mov'd at this rough Language, [Page 115] calmly, as well as resolutely, re­ply'd.

Tho' Sir, I am most ready, when­ever I am call'd to it, to Suffer for my Religion, yet I would not be thought to expose my self, for an ob­stinate Denial, to hear and consi­der, what may be objected against it. We Christians, whatever wil­fulness may be misimputed to us, are not so fond of Sufferings, or of our own Conceits, as not to be more willing to have them brought to the Bar; than to be condemn'd there for them: And persecuted Opinions are things, which, as we do not renounce, so we do not embrace, for their being such. Nor are we so blind and wilful, as to reject clear Arguments, that would both in­struct us and rescue us too, if any such could be propos'd, by the Em­bracers of your Religion.

This I say, Sir, continues Didy­mus, not to contradict what you [Page 116] were saying, of your being not a Priest but a Judge; but to clear Con­stancy from the imputation of Ob­stinacy, and declare, that if we could see Reasons on your side, fitted to deliver us from Error, and from death, we would not be so mad, or so perverse, as to chuse rather to re­nounce Life, than embrace Truth. But pardon me, Sir, (subjoyns he) if I think, that, though you are com­mission'd by the Supreme Power, to be a Judge for Life and Death, yet you are not constituted by the Supreme Verity, a Judge of Truth and Falshood. And therefore, I take your owning to worship many Gods, who, by their very being many Deities, are sufficiently proved not tobe true ones; for a Declaration of your Opinion, not a Demonstra­tion that it ought to be mine too. If you press us with Arguments, we are ready to answer yours, and offer you ours: But when in­stead of them, you employ Threats, we do not think it proper to argue [Page 117] against them, but to despise them; since 'tis not our Reason that they Assault, but our Constancy. And therefore, give me leave to tell you, Sir, concludes Didymus, that the Christian Religion can so fortifie and elevate the Mind, and place it so much above the reach of a Political Jurisdiction, that I shall suffer your Sentence with far less trouble, than you will soon or late feel, at the re­membrance of your having pro­nounc'd it; and you will not find it in the power of all your executed threats, to ruine either my Con­stancy, or so much as my Joy.

The Judge, enrag'd, to see his Power thus despis'd, and as he in­terpreted it, affronted, by a Pri­soner; declar'd, he would defer no longer than one hour (which space he allow'd him to repent his Er­rors in,) to pronounce against him the fatal Sentence, and command­ed him to be immediately led to the place, where 'twas to be executed; [Page 118] towards which he himself intended to follow at some distance: Whe­ther it were to feed his cruel Eyes with a Spectacle, whose tragical­ness his revenge would make ac­ceptable to him; or to prevent any Tumult or Disorders, that the Cou­rage of Didymus, and the esteem and pity it had excited in the nume­rous by-standers, might possibly occasion.

CHAP. VII.

AS soon as the Gentleman, that made the past Discourse, had ended it, the just Idea it form'd in the minds of the hearers, and espe­cially of the two Ladies, of the sin­gular Piety and heroick Courage of Didymus, made such an impressi­on on the grateful & compassionate Theodora, as exceedingly heightned her resolution to rescue him, if it were possible, and hast'ned her to begin immediately to attempt it. In order to which, having observ'd that the hearers listen'd so atten­tively to what the Relator said, that they then minded nothing else, she took that nick of time to withdraw herself silently, into another room; and by a pair of back stairs, con­vey'd herself out of the house: [Page 120] Whence by indirect wayes, (for fear of being overtaken in the shortest,) she went with as much hast and gladness, to an almost certain death, as others are wont to shun and escape it with; leaving Irene and her other friends, no less amaz'd than troubl'd, when sometime af­terward, they perceiv'd her missing, and found all the diligence they employ'd to retrieve her, fruitless. For, Theodora, fearing she could not long escape the diligence of her Pursuers, unless she hasten'd to a place, where she justly thought they would not follow her; delay'd not to go directly towards the Compa­ny, that she was told attended the President, in the affairs that were transacting in his Court. Among these Attendants, she had not staid long, before she descry'd her brave Lover, under a strict and rude Guard; but with a look so manly, and so serene, as shew'd, that he deserv'd another usage; and was not in the least daunted nor discom­pos'd [Page 121] by that he met with. This moving Sight, so affected the gene­rous & compassionate Theodora, that tho' in so publick place and manner, she could with less reluctancy dye for Didymus, than she could plead for him; yet her gratitude surmounting her bashfulness, after some con­flict within herself, she made to­wards the Tribunal; to which she found a more easie passage than she expected. For, the advantagious­ness of her shape and stature, and gracefulness of her motions, easily produc'd for her, such Sentiments, in the admiring by-standers, as made them with great respect, give her way, & let her, without disturbance, pass on to the Bar. She had but a very little while staid there, before the President was mov'd, by the con­course of those whom Curiosity and Wonder invited to gaze on the fair stranger, to cast his eyes on Her; and notwithstanding the unlikeli­hood, that she should appear there, without having been Forcibly [Page 122] brought thither; as soon as, out of respect to his Dignity, she had lifted up her Veil, he discern'd that it was she, by a sort of Beauty so peculiar, as was not easily either to be met with in others, or to be forgotten by any that had ever seen it.

But, though the Judge were thus surpriz'd at her presence, yet he little less admir'd her Courage, than her Beauty, when, with a Face, wherein the Blushes of her Cheeks, and the Assuredness of her Looks, equally discover'd her Mo­desty and her Fearlesness, she told him: I know, Sir, that 'tis a very unusual thing, for a Person of my Sex and Religion, to come to this Place unsent for. But I hope you will be pleas'd to consider, that, as the Action is extraordinary, the Occasion of it is so too. For both Justice, the Virtue that you sit here to distribute; and Gratititude, foun­ded upon the highest Obligations, engage me to appear before you, [Page 123] on the behalf of that brave Prisoner, (at which words she pointed at Di­dymus,) and present you the Object, on which you may inflict with Legal Justice, what you cannot make him suffer, without being tax'd of Cruelty. For supposing a Debt to be due to the Law, yet it would be more Severe than Just, to prosecute the Security, now the Principal offers to pay the Debt. He may well be look'd upon as my Hostage, whom I now come to re­deem: And 'tis not, Sir, your in­terest, to decline the Exchange, since by it you will preserve a Per­son, whose Courage, ingag'd by his Gratitude, may do signal Ser­vice in the Roman Army. And since my Escape was all his Crime, I beseech you, let my surrender of my self, obtain his absolution.

Here Theodora paus'd a while, partly to recover from the Disorder, so unusual and difficult an Effort of her Modesty had put her into; and [Page 124] partly, to observe the Judges Coun­tenance, upon his hearing what she had said, and to take measures thence in what she was further to speak. The President in the mean time continued silent, whether the longer to hear the musick of her Voice, or because so many Charms, as Nature had crouded in her Face, and so much sadness, as her concern for her Lover had display'd in her Looks, had somewhat mollify'd him, as they might have done a Tiger. Whereupon the fair Sup­pliant, hoping that his not inter­rupting her, proceeded from some relenting Thoughts, resumes her Discourse, in these terms. But if, Sir, to procure the dismission of this Gentleman, your Justice had need to be seconded by your Clemency, perhaps you never had, nor never will have, an Object whose merit may so well warrant the fullest Ex­ercise of it. For his Life, ever since he bore Arms, has been imploy'd in the Service of his Princes, and [Page 125] fearlessly hazarded for their Great­ness. And the Action for which he is now in trouble, is so Heroick, and so disinteressed an one of Courage and Compassion, that in it he could scarce have any other motive, than the Greatness of his Generosity, nor other End, than the Exercise of it. Nor need you fear, that your Clemency on this occasion should introduce a bad Example; for this of Didymus is never like to be imitated, nor can be so, but by Persons too virtuous to be Delin­quents. And if such Actions be Criminal, at least 'tis unlikely they will grow common Crimes. And here Theodora, perceiving that the impatient Didymus (now come again to himself, after the asto­nishing surprize this Adventure gave him) was upon the point to interrupt her, she thus prevents him. And you, brave Didymus, forbear to oppose the accomplish­ment of my just Desires. The course that I now take, is the [Page 126] only that I could take, to evidence my Gratitude, and to let you see, that you have not exercis'd the no­blest Acts of Generosity and Friend­ship, towards a Person insensible of the Dictates of those Vertues. I could not (continues she) but be glad to be rescu'd from the Igno­miny of a Rape, but I did not in­tend to be robb'd of the Glory of Suffering for Christ; which is also the only means left me to evince, that I Declin'd Dishonor, and not Death, and never meant so much to disoblige the World, as for the sake of an insignificant Maid, to deprive it of one of the most gene­rous of Men. You have left your­self but one way to encrease your past favours, which is, to allow me the only real Expression I can make of my sense of them, & that in such a way, as can, at most, but make some little Diminution of them, without pretending to make a Re­tribution for them. If therefore (con­cludes she) you will compleat the [Page 127] Obligation you have laid on me, by preserving to me the Coronet of Virginity, you must not oppose my obtaining the Crown of Martyr­dom.

Didymus had need of all the Re­spect, that he paid his admirable Mistress, to keep him thus long, from interrupting a Discourse, that tended so little to his satisfaction; and therefore she had no sooner put a period to it, than (with a deep sigh) he told her; Cease, Theo­dora, cease, to plead for the conti­nuance of Life, that you are almost as cruel to me, in thus endeavour­ing to preserve, as you are, in thus hazarding your own. And if I durst not hope for, from the President, more than I see I must on this occa­sion, expect from You; I should think my self as perfectly wretched, as (whatever your Intentions be) your proceedings are unkind. But I am confident, our unbyas'd Judge is too impartial, not to discern in your Discourse, that the excess of your [Page 128] Goodness, has had the chief inte­rest in the management of your Plea; the case about which we differ, being in itself so clear, that alone to state it, is sufficient to Plead it on my Behalf. For, I entic'd you to escape out of Prison, and then, at my own peril, facilitated to you the means of doing so: You leave me behind, as a Pawn to the Laws, and these finding me in your room, make their great Minister, before whose Tribunal we stand, doom me, for your Offence, to the Death design'd for your Punishment: Which since I joyfully proffer my self to suffer for you; or rather, since you suffer it in me your Proxy; the illustrious President is too well acquainted with his Office, to need to be told, that, at least in Equity, the Surety's Payment, discharges the Principal from the Debt; espe­cially, when he not only proffers the Payment, but most earnestly desires the acceptance of It, as a great advantage to him. I hope [Page 129] then, Great Sir, says he, (turning himself to the President, with addi­tional Respect to that he had shew'd him before,) that you will accept of my Life, instead of hers, who deserves a long and happy one; and that, when my Sentence of Con­demnation shall be pronounc'd, and gladly acquiesc'd in, it may Free her, I am Condemn'd for. The love of Self-preservation is so natu­ral, that it cannot be made Capi­tal, without affronting Nature, and punishing as well what Men are, as what they do: And the love of Purity and Honour does so much become a Chast Virgin, that the natural consequences of it are too Commendable, to be fit to be made Penal. 'Tis I, who having despis'd Dangers that I might easily have avoided, when 'twas Question to do an illegal thing, do yet glory in the Crime, that am the just and proper Object of the rigour of your Laws: And her Years are yet so tender, and her Disposition so inno­cent, [Page 130] that since, if she have err'd, it was by my persuasions, if she be to be punish'd, it should be in my per­son. All that she has since alledg'd to appropriate my guilt, or involve herself in it, will, I hope, by a Ro­man Magistrate be look'd on, as it is indeed, as an argument of her gene­rosity, and not of her crime. And the Romans are too much friends to gallantry, to punish in a Lady, that Vertue, that they applaud and crown even in Soldiers.

But now, continues Diydmus, I must address my self to you, O Theodora: And must complain of, or at least deplore, my infelicity; that after I had done and suffer'd, all that I could, though 'twas much less than I would, For the preser­vation of so dear a Life as yours; you come now to hazard it, to make mine end with sorrow. But grant­ing you should prevail, in the no less unwelcom than generous At­tempt, you are pleas'd to make; [Page 131] how cruel were you, to envy me at once, the two highest Honors, that my Ambition aspir'd to; the Glory of Martyrdom, and that of Theo­doras Rescue? Had I as many lives, as you have vertues, I should esteem them all but a cheap ransom for a few hours of yours: So unlikely I am, and ought to be, to be either capable or desirous, of being pre­serv'd by your suffering for my acti­ons. And therefore, Madam, if you think my little Services deserve some recompence; since my highest contentments on earth, terminate in your happiness, there is no other way left you to reward them, but the care of your own preservation: It being the only return that I ex­pect or desire of my Services, that you will not, by your inflexibleness, finally make them fruitless; but be content to live for his sake, that will rejoyce to dye for yours.

All the while this noble Dispute lasted, the Judge was, though not [Page 132] an unconcern'd, yet a silent Hearer of it: The strange novelty of the contest, and no less extraordinary generosity and gracefulness of the Contenders, having given him an attention, that kept him from in­terrupting them. But when their debate had proceeded thus far; his stern nature, whose actings had been but suspended by his curiosity, prompted him to tell the generous Couple; I know not what pre­sumption makes you plead, as if each of you were the others only Judge, and had the Supreme Au­thority of condemning or absolving you; and I were only an uncon­cern'd auditor, or at least, sate here to ratifie the Sentence you shall agree upon, between your selves. But you will quickly find, to your cost, that the Roman Laws, and Magistrates, are not to be trifled with.

Great Sir, replies Didymus, you much misapprehend our Conduct, [Page 133] if you think your self slighted by it: For, 'twas not want of respect to your Authority, and Power, that made us discourse as we did; but a supposition, not injurious to you, that you would in the exercise of that Power, manifest that you de­serve it, by tempering it with two excellent vertues, that best become a Magistrate, Equity and Clemen­cy. This presumption, Sir, and not any disrespectful one, was that upon which we proceeded in our discourse; still taking it for grant­ed, that you would not punish two, for that which was indeed, but the fault of one; and that if either of us were, by the others consent, to suffer; your Equity, or your Cle­mency, would prevail with you, to release the other.

Though Didymus, had worded what he said, so cautiously, that a discerning hearer might perceive, that his expressions related to the Judges Dignity, not his person; [Page 134] yet that self-flattery, which is but too common an attendant on Men in Power, making the President take all these respectful words to himself, made him allow Didymus, without interruption, to proceed in his discourse, and say; you will easily grant, Sir, that Goodness, whereof Clemency is a noble part, may bring a Magistrate, who is Heavens Vice-gerent upon Earth, as high a Veneration as Power or Greatness does; if you please to consider, that those of your Religion, when they would with the most deference speak of God, give the Title of Most Good the preference to that of Most Great, styling him, as the Christians likewise often do, Deus Optimus maximus. Certainly, Clemency is never more a vertue, nor less grudg'd at by Justice, than when 'tis exercis'd towards Vertu­ous Persons, by rescuing them from the persecutions of Fortune, and the unintended rigour of the Laws. I say unintended rigour, sayes Didy­mus, [Page 135] for I cannot think that the Ro­man Legislators, that have honor'd injur'd Chastity so much in Lucre­tia, and encourag'd Gallantry and other Vertues, by no less than Crowns and Triumphs; meant to make the productions of Chastity, Constancy and Gratitude, Criminal things. And, tho' Christians dissent from others in matters of Religion, yet those moral Vertues that were so esteem'd by the Romans, do not lose their nature, when practis'd by Christians: And those brave men, whose love to Vertue made them Masters of the World, did not scruple to honour it in their very Enemies; and did it so much, even in the most irreconcilable of them, that more than one or two Statues of Hannibal were erected at Rome; Pliny. to which Tri­umphant City 'tis per­haps more glorious, to have thus honor'd him, than vanquish'd him. And sure they that thought Lucretias Chastity merited so many Statues, [Page 136] would not think that Theodoras de­serv'd a Stake or a Scaffold. This Ladies actions and mine, are not so hainous, but that in happier persons, and milder times, they have been look'd on under a notion very dif­fering from that of criminal ones. But Sir, continues Didymus, addres­sing himself to the President, in a very humble manner, if there must needs be offer'd up some sacrifice to appease the angry Laws, I beseech you to let their rigour be satisfied with my Blood, and spare this harmless Lady; to whom, if your compassion be needful, I hope you will not want it for an object, whose Excellencies cannot only make it reasonable, but meritorious. For it will preserve to Antioch its fairest Ornament; and a Life so Exemplary, that to give it an untimely period, for actions, which, being laudable in their own nature, nothing but a rigid interpretation of the Law can make criminal, would be to make the Laws a terror, rather to the good [Page 137] than to the wicked. It would be thought inhumane to treat her as a delinquent, whom you may justly wish your daughters should resem­ble; when by the Grant of what I implore, you will be sure to receive both the thanks of her Sex, and the applause of ours, and what out va­lues both, the satisfaction of having sav'd and oblig'd one of the most admirable Persons in the world.

Didymus now perceiving, that the person he pleaded for, was pre­paring herself to interrupt him; re­address'd himself to her, and told her; do not, Madam, I beseech you, require of my obsequiousness, proofs inconsistent with my love; and add not to my infelicity, by putting me in so uneasie a condition, as to find it my duty to oppose your desires: Ah! refuse not to oblige the world, by preserving the most accomplish'd it can glory in: De­ny me not the satisfaction, whereof I am so ambitious, of being the hap­py [Page 138] instrument of your deliverance; and then I may say, that I never could justly dye more seasonably than now, when being at the height of all my joyes, my longer life must of necessity give an ebb to my feli­city; since after the Glory of hav­ing sav'd Theodora, I hope for no higher on Earth, than that of dying for her. Then perceiving her ready to renew the Contest, he told her (with a low voice, that the Judge might not hear him, and with a sadness in his looks, which she, that knew his Courage, could impute to nothing but his almost boundless concern for her;) Madam, though the Presidents impatience did not call upon us to conclude our Con­test, yet my condition and resolu­tion ought to put a hasty period to it: For, Madam, I must posi­tively declare to you, that it would be as bootless as cruel, for you to think to protect my Life, by the abandoning of your own: Since to [Page 139] owe a Life to that Cause, would make it not only uneasie but in­supportable to me, and conse­quently uncapable of lasting. So that enjoyning me to survive you, would condemn me to a Life, which after the loss of yours, must be spent, if it could last, in fruitless deploring that Loss. Forbear therefore, con­cludes he, I most earnestly beseech you Madam, to exact such proofs of my Obedience, that 'tis as little in my power to give you, as it ought to be in your will to require them; since for Didymus to survive Theo­dora, is as great an impossibility, as it would be an unhappiness. O admirable Contest! where the noble Antagonists did not strive for Vi­ctory, but Death; or endeavour'd to overcome each other, that the Victor might perish for the Van­quish'd: Where Self-love, the most radical affection of human Nature, is sacrific'd to a Love, equally chast and disinteress'd: And where Ver­tue [Page 140] makes each of the Contenders, in geniously Solicitous to appear Criminal, that the Antagonist may be treated as innocent. How well does this proceeding prove that in­spir'd Sentence true, that Love is Stronger than Death, since in this Conflict, the generous Friends, are by the former, made Rivals for the latter?

CHAP. VIII.

THE afflicted Virgin, to whom these moving things were said, finding that she should but lose her diswasions on Didymus, thought fit to address herself once more, to the President; and with humble Gestures, accompany'd with Looks, and with a Voice, that would have soften'd any that were not invincibly Obdurate, she told him; Though Sir, the Arguments us'd by this Gentleman, had far bet­ter prov'd than they have, that, of us two, he is the fittest person to be condemn'd; yet I hope, where you Preside with so much Authority, he will not fare the worse for being generous; and that what he has done, will be more prevalent with you, than what he has said. Ever [Page 142] since he was capable of bearing Arms, he employ'd them in the service of the Emperors; and in their Camps chearfully follow'd the Roman Eagles, where-ever they durst fly: And after his hav­ing this day hazarded himself so generously, out of compassion to a distress'd Virgin; what examples of gallantry may not be expected from such a Courage, engag'd by his Gratitude, when he shall act for the acquest of Glory, and the Service of his Country? If a guil­ty intention be necessary to make an action so, his will not be found to be Criminal; since he did not intend the violation of any Law, but to second, what we are told to be, the design of all just Laws; which is, to protect the Innocent, and en­courage Vertue. But if by a rigid interpretation of the Law, he may be brought within the reach of it; I hope his Misdemeanor will not appear so great, but that your Cle­mency may allow him all that I [Page 143] beg for him, which is, that he may be permitted to repair a mistake in the exercise of his vertue, by the continuation of those Services in the Roman Army, which will be far more useful to the publick than his death, in his present circumstances, can be. To this Theodora would perhaps have added, (though she could scarce have done it, without some reluctancy from her modesty) The things, Sir, that he has been pleas'd to act and hazard for me, may persuade you, that if, contrary to my prayers and hopes, you should design severity towards him, you may more sensibly punish him, by my death, than by more imme­diate inflictions on himself. And 'tis like she would have enforc'd her arguments and intreaties, for a Person for whom she was so much and so justly concern'd, when the President▪ vex'd to find that both of them so little valu'd Life, whose deprivation was the most formi­dable thing he could threaten them [Page 144] with, prevented her, by saying, with a stern countenance, No, I will hear no more, having heard but too much already: It does not become a Roman Magistrate, to suffer any longer with patience; that Priso­ners and Criminals should daring­ly disobey the Laws, slight all their threats, and glory in their vio­lation. What each of you has said to prove himself guilty, affords abun­dant reason to condemn you both. Wherefore, since you cannot agree among your selves, I will be your Umpire, and give both of you what each desires and merits. You, Ob­stinate Maid, sayes he, turning to Theodora, shall dye for having bro­ken Prison. You Disobedient Sol­dier, sayes he to Didymus, shall dye for having perswaded and further'd her Escape. But to specifie your chiefest Crime, than which there needs no other, nor can be a greater, you both shall dye because you are Christians, and consequently Enemies to the Roman Emperors, [Page 145] and the Gods that made them so.

This fatal Doom being pro­nounc'd, the Judge order'd the condemn'd Prisoners to be taken aside, and strongly guarded, till all things were in readiness for their Execution: Which preparatives he gave order to hasten. Yet finding by the discontented looks, and confus'd murmurs, of the by­standers, that the Charms and In­nocence of Theodora, and the Youth, Courage and Friendship, of both the no less generous than unfortu­nate Prisoners, made his Sentence o be far less lik'd, than were the per­sons & behavior of those it had pass'd upon; declar'd, that whilst he was dispatching other publick business, he permitted any that should have Charity enough to make a hopeless Attempt, to endeavour to convert those obstinate miscreants: Adding withal an intimation, that even they might speed in their suit, if they would seasonably, with incense [Page 146] in their hands, flee to the Altars of the Gods, and humbly implore of Them, Pardon and Safety.

This respite, as it expos'd the generous Couple to have their con­stancy assaulted by Infidels, ambi­tious of making such illustrious Per­sons Proselytes, so it gave them the welcom opportunity, of interchang­ing some discourse with one another.

These Conferences were begun by Didymus; who seeing himself upon the point of final Separation from his admirable Mistress, could not forbear feeling in himself such disorders, as on all other sad occasi­ons, his great Courage had kept him from resenting. And this un­usual commotion of mind, was un­easie enough to oblige him to say, to the fair Person that occasion'd it; Though, Madam, the military course of life I have with some forward­ness pursu'd, has accustom'd me to meet Death in variety of formidable [Page 147] Shapes and Dresses, without being discompos'd by it; yet when I see the world going to be rob'd of its noblest Ornament, and my self to be depriv'd of the person I most love and admire in it; and when I see this matchless Person ready to he ravish'd from us, both in the flow'r of her age, and by the infa­mous hand of an Executioner; I think it were rather stupidness not to be afflicted, than any weakness to be deeply so.

I was▪ answer'd Theodora, so fully satisfy'd before, of your Friendship and Compassion; that this new grief of yours, as 'tis a very need­less proof of them, so 'tis a very un­welcom one. For, if I were to al­low any thing to grieve me, when I am entring into the fulness of Joy, it ought to be, that I find your good nature renders this seemingly distress'd Condition of mine very uneasie to You; which through Gods assistance, is very little so to [Page 148] me; and yet will be less so, if, con­gratulating rather than deploring our Martyrdom, you will ease me of the justest and greatest part of my Grief, that consists in being unhap­pily accessory to yours, and seeing you needlesly troubl'd at mine. That circumstance, adds she, of my death, which I perceive much afflicts you, might in my opinion more justly lessen, than aggravate your Sorrow. For, I look upon it ra­ther as a Favour, than an Infelicity, that I am early remov'd out of the World, where I see, and suffer, and (which is worst of all) do, so much Ill. To be early rescu'd from the Snares of a Dangerous and Perse­cuting Age, and preserv'd from the Evil to come, is rather a Privilege, than a Calamity, to those that are duely sensible, as I desire to be, that one can never arrive unsea­sonably at Heaven, nor be too early happy. And, in this persuasion (continues Theodora,) I am con­firm'd by considering, that the First [Page 149] of those who are recorded to have religiously deceas'd, in the old Te­stament, and in the new, just Abel, and John the Baptist; both of them dy'd young, and perish'd by the hands of those that Persecuted them for their Piety. And even that spotless Lamb of God who did no sin, but by his Satisfaction, Pre­cepts, and Example, takes away the sin of the World; was sacrific'd al­most in the flow'r of his Age: So little is it an unhappiness, or a mark of Gods disfavour, to escape the toyles and dangers of a trouble­som Navigation, by being early, though by a boisterous Wind, blown into the Port. And, if it could become a Woman to encou­rage a Heroe, I should exhort both you and my self too, generous Di­dymus, (continues she) to entertain our present Condition with Senti­ments becoming Christians. And, as it does not trouble me directly, so it ought not to trouble you upon the score of sympathy; that I am [Page 150] secur'd from the hazards and incon­veniencies of Age: But be pleas'd to make use of that Courage, now at the end of your daies, that you have constantly express'd in the course of your life. And, do not, I beseech you, repine, either that you or I, is to fall by the hand of an Executioner. For that seeming, and but seeming Ignominy, was the lot both of our Saviour's immediate Harbinger, and of our Saviour him­self. And, when we consider for whom, and for what, we suffer; we may find reason enough to as­sume the sentiments of the Apostles, who, after having been misus'd by the Jewish Council, went from their presence rejoycing, that they had been thought wor­thy to Suffer for His name; Acts 5. 41. for whom we are going to suffer the like things. For, Didymus, Gods gracious Providence has not left us to perish, by ling'ring or tor­menting Sickness, or troublesom Old Age; nor yet for some com­mon [Page 151] Cause, or some unimportant End. But all in our fate is noble: And what to others is meer Death, a debt due to Nature, or the punish­ment of Sin, to us is Martyrdom, the noblest act of Christianity, and shortest way to Everlasting Glo­ry.

A Discourse that relish'd so much more of a Martyr than of a Virgin, gave Didymus a rise to continue a Conversation, by which he found himself as well assisted, as charm'd; and therefore observing the serenity of his Mistresses looks, to be little inferiour to the beauty of her face, and remembring what instances she had that day given of an altoge­ther extraordinary Piety and Cou­rage; was, by the sentiments these reflections produ'cd in him, prompt­ed to tell her: I should be justly inconsolable, Madam, to see my self and the world, upon the point of being depriv'd of so admirable a Person, as Theodora has, by this [Page 152] daies various Tryals, manifested Her self to be; if I were not confident, that my Loss will be as short as great; and that in the State we are now entring upon, I shall be allow'd what approaching Death will deny me in this, and shall find in Heaven the endearing happiness of con­versing with Her more freely, than our Persecutions and Her Reserved­ness would here permit. For Ma­dam, (continues He,) I am Friend enough to my own Felicity, to be­lieve assuredly, that those who shall be happy enough to meet in Heaven, will know one another there, and have their joyes hightned by the re­membrance of what past between them upon Earth. For in the blest State we are hastening to, our Fa­culties, and consequently our me­mory, will not only be gratify'd with Suitable Objects, but be im­prov'd by enlarg'd Capacities. And even in a condition short of that we this day expect; mens knowledge has been advanc'd, at least as much [Page 153] as is necessary for our knowing one another, without the helps that are ordinarily requisite to make us do so. As soon as ever Adam saw Eve, he could confidently say of her, that she was bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh. When Noah awak'd from his Sleep, he could tell that during his sleep, his younger Son had behav'd himself irreverently towards him. When our Saviour was tranfigur'd on M. Tabor, the three chos'n disciples that atten­ded him presently knew Moses & Elias, Matt. 11. 4. whom they had never seen before,Luke 9. 31. in spite of the Diguise that the Glory they ap­pear'd in put upon them. St. Paul tells his Thessalo­nians, 1 Thes. 2. 19, 20. they shall be his joy & crown, before their common Lord at his appearing: To the truth of which it seems requisite, that both the Preachers and the Converts shall be publickly known at that great appearance, and Assem­bly of the first born, whose names are [Page 154] written in Heaven; and consequent­ly, that men there shall know one another. Our Divine Redeemer, continues Didymus, teaches us, that there is Joy in the presence of the holy Angels over a repenting Sin­ner; which argues, that whether they know of his Conversion in a more intuitive way, or by the infor­mation of those Angels, that are some times sent to this lower world about human affairs, they yet have a know­ledg of particular persons, and take notice of particular things that con­cern them. And, which makes exceedingly for my present purpose, he elsewhere introduces Abraham in Paradice, calling upon the unchari­table Rich Man, to remember what his own and Lazarus's differing States had been upon Earth: And, which is yet more, to shew, that even in the place of utter Darkness and Torment, the Memory of past things and persons is not obliterated; the Rich Man is introduc'd, as re­membring not only Lazarus, but [Page 155] his own five Brothers, and their dangerous Condition.

The pause that Didymus made, after these words, invited Theo­dora to tell him: Since, generous Didymus, I have observ'd our sound­est Teachers to be of differing opi­nions about the Subject of your Di­scourse, and that they do not look upon it as an Article of Faith, either that the Blessed do, or that they do not, know one another in Heaven; I presume I may be allow'd to think, that if they do, (which I know is the most receiv'd Opinion) they do it in likelihood with other senti­ments than we commonly imagine. For, when the beloved Disciple teaches, that, though we be here the Children of God, it does not yet appear what we shall be; and adds only in general, that, when our Sa­viour, or that Bless'd State, shall be manifested, we shall be like Him: When, I say, I reflect on this, and some things of the same import; I [Page 156] am prone to fear, that we judge too much of our future glorious State, by wrong measures, taken from our present frail and mean Condition. And I am apt to think, that we must stay till we come to Heaven, be­fore we shall frame Ideas suitable to the Prerogatives of its Bless'd In­habitants. I think our Notions will then be rais'd, as well as our Dust, and our Love, and other Affections, will be transfigur'd, as well as our Bodies. If we know one another, though our mutual Love may perhaps be greater than it ever was on Earth, yet it will not be upon the former Accounts; but will be as well better grounded, as better regulated. That external Beauty, pursues the fair Speaker, that here is so much doted on and overvalu'd, will there be found so much inferiour to that of every Glorify'd Body, that the difference and degrees of it will be very incon­siderable, and unable to make dif­fering impressions on those that [Page 157] shall remember them: As the re­fulgent splendor of the Sun obscures all the Stars, and keeps our eyes from being any more affected by the greatest and brightest, than by any of the rest. So that our kind­ness to one another will be very little grounded upon External Qua­lities, which will there either cease, or be eclips'd; nor upon secular Re­lations, which will there affect us far less, than our being nearly re­lated to our common Lord; our re­semblance to whom will be the chief, as well as justest Ground of our mutual esteem and affection. When Children of the same Pa­rents have been early parted, and long bred in distant places; though when they are grown men and wo­men, they chance to meet again, 'tis observ'd, that at first they know not one another any more than meer strangers: and when they are in­form'd of their Relation, 'tis not the little accidents that happen'd to them at play; nor some features, [Page 158] that perhaps pleas'd one of them in the others Face, but are now very much chang'd by Time and Growth; that produce their new kindness: but the knowledge that they are Children of the same Fa­ther, and their finding in each other personal qualities, fit to adorn their present State, and thereby to chal­lenge kindness and esteem. And if some years absence can produce so great a Change, as to make our nearest Relations unknowable by us; and make us look with pity, on the fondnesses that trifles produc'd in us in our infancy: What Chan­ges, may we think, must be made on those that convers'd together upon Earth, when after numerous ages, they shall meet in Heaven, with minds as much chang'd and im­prov'd as their bodies will then be? Shall we not by the grounds of a vertuous Complacency, be more affected and united, than we are now by natural Relations, or by external Beauty, and those other [Page 159] [...]rifles that here produce the great­est Fondnesses?

But Theodora, (answers the sur­priz'd Didymus) can you be so ri­gid as to think, that pure and ver­tuous Affections cannot be admitted into Heaven; since the Scripture informs us, that not only Joy & De­sire are to be found even among the Angels, (who are said to rejoyce at a sinners Conversion, and desire to pry into the Mysteries of our Reli­gion) but Care and Actings for opposite Ends; (as when the Angel of Persia withstood Michael, and the Angel that talk'd to Daniel.) Dan. 10. 13.

I do not absolutely deny, Theo­dora replies, that the Blessed know one another in Heaven. And, saies she, with a light change of colour, I am so far inclin'nd to believe it is true, as, for Didymus's sake, to wish it so. But, as I lately told you, I am not apt to think, the sentiments oc­casion'd [Page 158] by that knowledge, will be such as most men imagine. Besides those Reasons that you have inge­niously laid together, I think your perswasion of the Saints mutual knowledge the more probable, be­cause it seems not readily concei­vable, how at the great Day of Judgement, the Justice of God, in rewarding and punishing particu­lar Vertues and Crimes, can be ma­nifested to the world, without di­scovering the Persons by whom they were perform'd: Since Perso­nal Circumstances do very much alter the nature of moral Actions. And since the happy residents in heav'n, will have an eternity alow'd them to converse with one another in; it seems highly probable, that in their various Conferences, they will meet with, at least sometime or other, occasions, that by less sagacity than their enlightened minds will then be endow'd with, may be improv'd to the discovery of the Persons they were formerly [Page 159] acquainted with. But on the other side, (continues Theodora) we shall have such noble and charming Entertainments to employ our at­tention, as will engross it from the little and despicable Objects, (as we shall then think them) that now amuse or busie us; as when we behold such a pompous Solem­nity as a Roman Triumph, the va­riety of splendid and magnificent Objects, that Successively present themselves to our view, make us so intent upon those surprizing Spe­ctacles, that even the nearest and dearest Relations, though perhaps gazing at the same Sight, out of the same windows, are apt to for­get one another. And (continues she) even when the Saints actually know and remember one another, they may love and converse, upon terms very differing from those, that were suitable to their mortal Condition. Yes, Didymus, (adds she) As there will be no such difference of Ages and Sexes, in Heaven, as [Page 160] there are on Earth; since all shall there be like the Angels, and have Bodies conform'd to the Glorious Bo­dy of their Redeemer: So, the Ratio­nal Friendships, that will be pra­ctis'd in that happy Place, will re­ceive their measures from the new and personal Excellencies of the Friends; from their being Rivals in the Love of God; and from their differing degrees of resemblance to Him, that is the Brightness of his Glory, and the express Image of His Person. But, concludes Theodora, we need not spend more time in di­scoursing conjecturally about Que­stions, wherein the Change, we are now going to make, will soon bring us to be resolv'd. And in the mean time, we may well rest sa­tisfy'd, with this assurance, That since Heaven is a Place, or State▪ where we shall be Bless'd with the Fulness of Joy; to know and con­verse with each other, will be there found, either a part of our Felicity, or not necessary to it.

CHAP. IX.

WHilst Didymas and his ex­cellent Mistress, stood waiting, till the infamous Ministers of the Presidents Cruelty, had pre­par'd all things requisite to the Exe­cution of his barbarous Sentence; among those many Roman Soldiers that were assembled there, to be spectators of the approaching Tra­gedy▪ an Officer, whom his own Gallantry had strongly inclin'd to sympathize with a Person, in whom he saw that Quality so Eminent, thought himself oblig'd to attempt the diswading him, from persisting in so fatal a Resolution as he had taken. Wherefore, approaching our Martyr, with very obliging looks and gestures, and drawing him aside, The Gods, sayes he, can bear me wit­ness, [Page 162] generous Youth, that 'tis not without some amazement, and more trouble, than any affliction of my own has been wont to give me, that I see the Possessor of so much Gallantry, upon the point to be destroy'd by an unhappy Constancy, which, though in other cases a ver­tue, must, being exercis'd against the Gods, become a Crime. And therefore, I cannot but ardently wish, that after having shewn so much Patience and Courage, you would at length express your Pru­dence too, by letting your self be perswaded to a Compliance, that may rescue you at once from Im­piety and from Death.

An advice, answers Didymus, that is propos'd with so much kindness and civility, and yet press'd but by such unsatisfying Reasons, does justly deserve my thanks for it, but not my compliance with it. For the Argument you bring against my Constancy to the Truth, is on­ly, [Page 163] that my persisting in it will cost me my Life; which is a proof in­deed, that the Religion I profess, will lead me into Danger, but none at all, that it has misled me into Error.

'Tis altogether extrinsick and ac­cidental to a Religions being true or false, that its Embracers happen to be encourag'd by Preferments, or expos'd to Persecutions. Fear is but an ill Counsellor in matters of Religion, unless it be the fear of chusing a bad one, or living unwor­thy of a good one. He deserves not the Blessing of having made a good choice among Religions, that does more seek in his choice, the Concernments of his Life, than of his Soul. And as 'tis only for its being the true one, that we should make choice of our Religion: So having once chosen it, nothing should make us desert it, but a con­viction of its being erroneous, and consequently of its wanting that Truth, whose appearance made us [Page 164] embrace it. If therefore, you can shew me, that the Christian Religi­on is false, or that yours is better; I am not so in love with wandring, as to go on in a wrong way, be­cause I once have, by weakness or misfortune, been misled into it. But if your Arguments be but menaces, or any thing that is of that sort, which can only manifest, that the power is on your side, but do not at all evince, that the truth is not on mine; I must look upon what you urge, as not deserving to be com­ply'd with, but contemn'd. And if it were not my custom never to take any thing ill, that I think is meant well, I should esteem my self not a little injur'd, by the argument you employ to make me abandon Chri­stianity. Since, if a person less ci­vil and gallant had made use of it, I should conclude, that he must suppose me a Coward, to hope, by such perswasions to make a Proselyte. And though I were less assur'd than I am, of the Truth of [Page 165] the Religion I have alwaies own'd; yet would I not for all the world, on this occasion, by professing yours, desert it: Least by forsaking it, when I am threaten'd for sticking to it; I should procure my self a disquieting temptation to suspect, that I did not deal sincerely and im­partially in chusing a Religion; since I made choice of one, that I judg'd not worthy to be dy'd for.

You mistake my intentions, Ge­nerous Didymus, replies the Roman, if you think I pretended to fright you into Apostacy: my Vertue would as little allow me to have so un­worthy a design, as your Courage would permit a hope, that it should be succesful. But looking upon my self, as having made a right choice in that worship of the Gods, I make profession of, I could not think it injurious to you, to perswade you, rather to Live in the profession of a true Religion, than to Dye for that of a false one. And since my [Page 166] concerns for your safety, and the little time you have to deliberate, oblige me to speak freely to you; I cannot but wonder, that a Person that hath courted Honour at the rate you have done, should lose himself, for One, whom the most Sacred Persons of his own Nation, crucified as a Malefactor; and who has been so ill natur'd, as to invite his Followers, both by express words, and by the nature of the Religion he fram'd, which could not but be Persecuted, to involve themselves with him in the like un­happy fate.

The Notions (replies Didy­mus, somewhat nettled at this Discourse) that Idolaters frame to themselves, of the nature of the Christian Religion, are common­ly as erroneous, as the ways they take to confute it, are impro­per, and inhumane: And they are usually no less misinform'd about the Grounds and Mysteries of our Religion, than they are mistaken [Page 167] about the Objects of their own Ado­rations. 'Tis true, that the Divine Person I adore, being sent from God his Father, to be the great Prophet and Reformer of the World, did, with a Prophetick Freedom, as well as Authority, sharply rebuke the Superstitions of the Jewish Scribes and Pharisees, among whom he con­vers'd; and did not more unmask their Hypocrisie, and reproach their Practices, by the Light of his Do­ctrine, than by the shining actions of a most exemplary and unble­mish'd Life. And his Holiness ha­ving exasperated these impious Hy­pocrites, that found their Authori­ty undermin'd, and their Persons discredited by him: As their malice was too great, not to attempt the Destruction of such an Enemy; so his Constancy was too great, to suffer him to decline the greatest dangers, by declining to persist in the wonted exercise of his Vertues; whereby he thus became expos'd to a Death, which he foresaw, and [Page 168] frequently foretold, and which he also willingly underwent, to pro­cure Everlasting Life, for those who should believe in him, and strive to imitate him.

And that his Death, whereunto he submitted to expiate the sins of others, was not inflicted on him for his own, was evident, by his be­ing absolv'd, not only by the very Judge, to whom a Criminal fear of his Accusers indicted the Sentence he pronounc'd against him, but by that Supreme and Infallible Judge, God himself; who declar'd by aston­ishing Prodigies, both in Heaven and Earth, how much he was dis­pleas'd with those, that put his Son to Death; & by raising him from the Dead within three days, to an Im­mortal Life, proclaim'd how dear he was to him, and gave him Power, to make his Followers Partakers of that glorious condition he himself was advanc'd to. So that (conti­nues Didymus) those Champions [Page 169] of his, whom he vouchsafes to single out from the rest of his Followers, and call to Martyrdom, have rea­son enough to look upon that Call, as an invaluable Honour, and a Pri­viledge: Since, as they are thereby made more conformable to him, in chearfully dying for Truth and Con­stancy; so they will be made more plentiful sharers in those inestimable advantages, that his own meritori­ous Martyrdom procur'd him. Yes, for those to whom he vouchsafes the Power and Honour of Suffering for Him, and of imitating him, for the interest of Truth and Piety; he does not only reserve such future Recom­pences, to crown their Love and Fi­delity, but often gives them here such happy foretasts, in a perfect assurance of it, that I cannot but look upon it, as a vast accession to that immense Love, that made him dye for Us, that he calls and inables us to dye for Him.

[Page 170] I confess, (Didymus adds in pur­suit of his Discourse) that, as he took upon him the form of a Man, so he suffer'd himself to be us'd as good Men too often are. But his miraculous power and goodness, sufficiently proclaim'd, that he was not thrown down from Heaven to Earth, as your Vulcan is said to have been, but that he descended from Heaven, to make Men live an heavenly life: Nor did he, like many of your Deities, especially your Jupiter, assume an humane shape, to do actions below the dignity of humane Nature; but he taught Men a Doctrine, worthy, as well as likely, to be brought from Heaven; and gave them an exemplary life, whose imitation would fit them to be translated thi­ther: And then submitted to the Torments and Infamy of the Cross, to purchase for his followers, by his Death, that heavenly condition, for which he had qualified them, by his Spirit and his Life.

[Page 171] The Roman Officer, not yet quite discourag'd, by the unsuccesfulness he had hitherto met with in his attempt, resolv'd to prosecute it yet further, by saying: The same reason, that somewhat lessens my wonder at your despising Death, for your erroneous Religion, encrea­ses my admiration at your uncon­cernedness, to avoid the kind of Death that threatens your obstina­cy. For though the love of glory, may invite a gallant Man, like Di­dymus, to part with his life for the attainment of it; yet that same heroick passion, ought to make those it possesses, more apprehen­sive than others of those Extre­mities, wherein Death is accom­pany'd with Infamy, and made justy terrible with ignominious Circumstances; of which, none can be more disgraceful, than the receiving it at the base hand of a common Executioner.

[Page 172] The Weakness and Examples of your Gods (replies Didymus) have too much seduced you, to make Esti­mates of Good and Evil, by those popular and pitiful measures, that I cannot but think very unworthy to be acquiesc'd in by a Christian; who, to merit that Title, must be somewhat more than an ordinary Man. We judge of good and evil Actions, by the Laws of God, and right Reason, not by those of Men in Power. And therefore do not think, that Constancy ceases to be a Vertue, and consequently an ho­nourable, not a disgraceful quality, because legal Tyrants will call it Obstinacy, and condemn Men for it, to the same Punishments that are allotted to dishonourable Acti­ons. The respect our Religion commands us to pay to a Civil Ma­gistrate, though a Persecutor, per­mits us not by force to resist his un­just Sentences. But this Submis­sion of ours, does not at all keep his Sentences from being unjust, [Page 173] nor forbid us to think them so; and consequently leaves us the inestima­ble satisfaction of our Consciences, that inwardly absolve us, when outward Judges condemn us. And for proof of this, you cannot but have taken notice, that, where­as truly Criminal, Persons being conscious of their own Guilt, either deny what they are accused of, or endeavour by all means, to palliate it, and to avoid the being condem'd for it. We Christians, on the contrary, do not only Confess what you call a Crime, but Glory in It; and do not deprecate the fate, that attends our Constancy. Nor can it fright us from undergoing Death, for a glorious Cause, that we must receive it from an Infamous Hand. For that by which we estimate it, is, the quality of the action that procures it, not the condition of him that is employ'd to inflict it: And, so we can consider with joy, for what, we are not much troubled to see, by whom, it is that we suffer; [Page 174] being satisfied, that the Executio­ners hand may destroy a Malefactor, but cannot make one; and if the Cause that brings a Man to the Scaffold, be not culpable, the place cannot make the Death that is there suffered, infamous: Nay, and if Vertue leads him thither, the In­struments of his Death, cannot keep it from being Glorious; since this demonstrates the Sufferers unsha­ken Constancy to be insuperable, not only by Death, but by that which many have embrac'd Death to shun, the Contempt of the gene­rality of Men. Your gallant Roman Commander (Attilius Regulus) is much less remembred and celebra­ted, for all his Military Exploits and Attempts, than for the Cruel Death he suffer'd, by order of the Cartha­ginians, to whom, in performance of a Pomise, he yielded him­self up, with expectation of some such barbarous Usage as he met with. And sure, as a submission to Indignities, was a duty not [Page 175] meanly glorious in him, to shun the breaking of his Word to his Enemies; the like resignation of themselves, will not, by unbyass'd Judges, be thought an Action dis­honourable in Christians, to pre­vent the violation of their Faith, solemnly given, not to a Savage E­nemy, but to a Divine Friend, who has already, without any obligati­on to do it, suffered more shame for them, than the sublimity of his condition leaves it possible for them to suffer for him. And though that Greek Philosopher, Socrates, whom your own Oracles, with more of Truth than they are wont to be guilty of, pronounc'd the wisest of Men, was by his own Fellow-Citi­zens condemn'd to die by Poyson, brought him by the hand of an Exe­cutioner: Yet, since that Sentence was not occasioned by his Crimes, but his Vertues, the deadly draught did not destroy his Fame with his Life; and poyson'd not his Reputa­tion, which it extremely heightned, [Page 176] but that of his Accusers, and his Judges; whom after Ages have look'd upon, as worse Criminals than ever they Condemned, and more unworthy Persons, than those they employed to execute their Sen­tence. And for my part, (continues Didymus) some passages of our sa­cred Records encourage me to ex­pect, that, if a Posthume Fame be such a Blessing, as many imagine, the Indignities we suffer now, will hereafter procure it us. For I can­not but hope, and methinks I fore­see, that the Roman Eagles will one day stoop to the Cross of Christ: And the Temples of your False Dei­ties, will be consecrated to the Ser­vice of the True God. The Sword of the Civil Magistrate, which is now the great and only successful Argument on your side, will be then in Christian hands, which I wish may never employ it against your Religion; whose ruine will not require the active opposition of Power, but the bare withdrawing [Page 177] of its preserving Support. And then posterity, more enlightned and more just, will read the History of those Destroyers of the Baptized (which is, at least, the innocenter) part of Mankind, with the same resent­ments, with which they will read the havocks made by Wars, Plagues, Massacres, and other publick Cala­mities.

CHAP. X.

THese Replies of Didymus made an end of convincing the Per­son, that occasion'd them, that our Martyrs resolution was not to be shaken, either by threats or perswa­sions.

But yet the officious Roman, che­rishing some hope, that, if Didymus should see his Mistress ready to be kill'd by an infamous hand; that Beauty, which had conquered his heart, would soften it, and thereby make it capable of relenting impres­sions; thought fit to make him one address more, and tell him; It is not without extreme regret, that I see your inflexible obstinacy defeat all my endeavours to procure your safety. But though your mistaken [Page 179] gallantry, may make you think it unhandsom in a Soldier, to disclaim a threatned opinion, that he once adher'd to, lest the change should be imputed to Fear or Levity; yet I hope you will not think, that the strict rules of that destructive Gal­lantry, ought to oblige a young La­dy, in whose Sex, Courage is, at least, an unrequired, if not an alto­gether improper, Vertue. And therefore, I hope you will not re­fuse to second my Endeavours, to perswade her, not to throw herself out of a World, of whose grandeurs and pleasures, her transcendent Beauty promises her an extraordi­nary share, as well as her Youth fits her to relish them perfectly, and en­joy them long.

Didymus, though at first some­what surpriz'd at this motion, took no long time to return answer, by saying; I confess, I cannot partake of the trouble you are pleas'd to ex­press, for the not prevailing of your [Page 180] Endeavours to alter my Resolutions. For though the advice you press'd upon me, was obliging in you to give, yet it would have been Crimi­nal for me to take it.

And as for what you propose, in reference to Theodora, I must desire to be excus'd from making myself accessory to your design of tempting her. For, in my opinion, he that solicites another, to what he be­lieveth a Crime, doth become guilty of one; so that, as to what concerns Theodora, without being at all sure of shaking her Vertue, I should most certainly ruine my own inno­cence. Yet I cannot think (says the Roman, interrupting him,) but if you would enforce my per­swasions with yours, the Interest you have in her, would prevail to make her rather accept of Life, than deny a Person, that she owes so much to; and does not less highly, than justly, value.

[Page 181] If (replies Didymus) I should yield to use so Criminal means, as to give her an Example of the Apo­stacy, you would have me invite her to; the attempt would be less improbable: But for me to perswade her to what I am just going to give a convincing proof, that I believe to be worse than Death; would make her both hate me, and despise me. And to convince you, that such a Motion as you would have me make, would lose me all the share I may have in her good opi­nion; I will dare to own to you, that if I thought her capable, I say not of endeavouring to seduce me, but of being seduced by me, my esteem of her would alter upon her change: And though I could not deny my wonder to so rare a Master-piece of Nature, as is her visible part; yet there would be a vast difference be­twixt a meer admiration of exter­nal Beauty, which must become the Trophy of Age or Death; and that high veneration, that I now [Page 182] pay to that admirable Person's in­trinsick Worth, and unconquerable Vertue.

Nor should you doubt (continues Didymus) of the Entertainment, that such a Piety as hers, would give such a Motion as you would have me make; since it would just­ly give her a higher resentment of my solicitations, than of all the im­portunities of her Heathen Persecu­tors: for these do but advise her to decline Danger, by embracing what they think Truth; whereas that which you would have me to per­swade her to, is, to purchase her safety, by renouncing, what I, as well as She, know to be Truth: And I doubt not, that such a pro­ceeding would so highly offend her, as to enable her, by a bare Pardon, to acquit herself of those Respects and Services of mine, to which pos­ssibly a Person of her goodness vouchsafes some Title to her grati­tude.

[Page 183] There is (replies the Roman) so great a difference betwixt the case of a resolv'd Soldier, that thinks himself in point of Reputation en­gag'd not to retreat, and that of a young Lady, from whom no Reso­luteness, much less Obstinacy, can be expected, that I must yet think, our joynt perswasions, though un­assisted by your Example, would with-hold her from Death, now she is near enough to it to see the hor­rors of it.

Nay, (rejoyns Didymus) I did not speak what I have been saying about my own aversness, that I might hinder you from trying your Fortune, if you think fit, with Theo­dora's Vertue. I do not envy her Constancy (whose successes have been hitherto no fewer than its try­als) the honour of gaining more than one Victory, in one day. But what I have been saying, was, to give you one reason, of my refusing to joyn with you in your propos'd [Page 184] attempt: against which I shall now offer this other reason, that I think it little less than impossible it should succeed. For I thought I had already satisfied you, that as to my interest in Theodora, if it were much greater, than you, for want of knowing us both, imagine; so great a misimployment of it, would make me justly forfeit it; and per­swasions that would seduce her to Apostacy, instead of making her follow the Advice, would make her but detest the Adviser. And as to the hopes, you ground on her see­ing herself upon the point of passing out of the World; let me tell you, that the severe Exercises, to which her strict Piety hath long accu­stomed her, have so disingaged her affections from temporal things, that, being already mortified to the pleasures and vanities of the World, Death can now do no more, but free her from the troubles and persecu­tions of it. She hath employed a great part of her life, in preparing [Page 185] herself to part with it joyfully, when-ever Nature or Vertue shall require it; and she will find it very easie to lay it down for Religion, now she is in a suffering Condition, when in her most flourishing one, she found it enough to wean her from the love of the present life, that it detained her from the next. Great Vertues, such as hers, are like great Rivers, which, the nearer they come to the Sea, where they are to end their course, the greater they are wont to grow, and the more diffi­cult the stream is to be withstood or hinder'd from its progress. Theo­dora now looks upon herself, as ha­ving but one step more to make, to reach that Crown she hath done and suffer'd so much for: And that glorious Object, viewed at so near a distance, so ravishes and so pos­sesses her Eyes, that she will doubt­less either not see, or not regard, any thing that would hinder or retard her taking possession of it.

[Page 186] Here the Roman Officer, some­what impatient at Didymus's Dis­course, would no longer forbear in­terrupting it, by telling him; To hear you speak, one would imagine, that you are not talking of a young Lady, but of some ancient Heroe, that had been long accustom'd to despise the Frowns of Fortune, and keep himself from over-valuing her smiles.

Heroick Vertue (replies Didy­mus) does as little know Sexes, as doth the Soul wherein it properly resides. A habitude cannot always be Essential to the Nature of an Heroick Action: Since the first of that kind that one does, is not the consequent, but the beginning, of a a habitude: And a sincere and set­tled resolution to be highly vertuous, may make a Woman (as well as a Man) to be, that which the noblest subsequent Actions can but declare her to have been. And a Person that, like Theodora, acts by the as­sistance, [Page 187] and as in the presence, of the Deity, may, to maintain her Loyalty to God, and her Title to the inestimable Rewards he hath promis'd to persevering Piety, both act and suffer greater things, than those very Heroes you talk of were put upon, by such barely humane Motives, as Custom, Ambition, or Revenge. And particularly, as to the point of perseverance against Menaces, and Proffers; these are not like to prevail against the Constancy of Christians much less possess'd with Divine Love and Hope, than Theodora is. And indeed, there can be nothing upon Earth capable to bribe Them, to let go the Joys of Heaven, that see themselves entring upon the Possession, and find them­selves sensible of the inestimable Value of them.

Wherefore (concludes Didymus) you will not, I presume, think it strange, that I refuse to joyn with you, in a Design, that I could not [Page 188] so much as attempt, either with Hope, or without a Crime; and that thinking it worthier of my En­deavors, to imitate Theodora's Con­stancy, than to seduce her from it, I chuse rather to be a sharer in the Triumphs of her Vertue, than a Trophy.

CHAP. XI.

THis resolute Conclusion, ob­lig'd the Roman Officer to break off a Conversation, whereby he plainly saw, there was no cause to hope he could shake the Constancy of Didymus; and much cause to fear, that Didymus's Constancy and his Discourses, would stagger many of the Heathen Auditors. And there­fore withdrawing himself, much discontented at the unsuccesfulness of his perswasions, he thought it would be impious, to make any in­tercession, for Persons he judg'd in­vincibly obstinate, or divert the fatal Proceedings of the Judge; who having by this time made an end of those other Affairs, whose dispatch Theodora's respite was not to outlast; call'd for the innocent [Page 190] Criminals, and, with a stern Coun­tenance and Voice, demanded, whe­ther they were yet willing, to ap­pease the Deities they had pro­vok'd; and by burning Incense to them, endeavour to attone for the Affronts they had offer'd them. Adding, that there was now no more time left for deliberating, but that they must immediately re­nounce thir Impious Religion, or suffer Death for it.

But this could not shake the illu­strious Prisoners Constancy; which prompted them to make, with as much haste as the President could desire, an answer, that consisted but of a short and resolute declara­tion; That they had liv'd Wor­shippers of Christ; and had a thousand times rather die, than cease to be, or to profess themselves such: And that for the false Gods, the President would have them adore; they had rather be their Victims, than their Suppliants; [Page 191] and fall Sacrifices to them, than offer them any.

This bold profession, so incens'd the person 'twas made to, that he immediately gave order, that the Prisoners should be led away to the place of Execution; and that the Ministers of Justice, (as he misnamed his Cruelty) should, without delay, go on with the pre­parations that were making, to destroy them. But while these Officers were solicitous to obey those Commands, Theodora took the opportunity, to tell the generous Companion of her Sufferings: It was fit, I confess, when we dis­cours'd with Infidels, to recom­mend the Objects of our hopes, by giving them the glorious Titles of Crowns, and Triumphs; since be­ing to defend the reasonableness of our Constancy, by the greatness of the rewards we expect for it; 'twas very proper to represent those Coelestial Recompences, under the [Page 192] notion of such Goods, as those we argued with, acknowledged to be the most noble and desirable. But, (continues she) when we speak of Heaven among our selves, give me leave to tell you, that I think we should look upon it under a very differing notion; and make a wide disparity betwixt the Christians Paradise, and the Poets Elysium. The Triumphs we should most desire in Heaven, should be, not over our outward Enemies, or per­sonal Sufferings, but over Sin and Ignorance, and the frailties of our Natures, and the imperfections of our Vertues. And the positive Blessings that should most endear Heaven to us, should be, not so much that we shall there be Crown'd by Christ, as that we shall live with him, and follow that spotless Lamb where ever he goes; That our gratitude it self shall be perfect, as well as the Blessings that engage it shall be compleat; and That we shall have an eternal [Page 193] Day, to contemplate that Sun of Righteousness, without having that glorious Object veil'd by any inter­posing Cloud, much less hid from us by the vicissitudes of day and night. In short, I think, Devotion should in our future State, aspire to other things, than those that may be the Objects of meer Am­bition.

And now, generous Didymus, (adds Theodora) since we are enter­ing upon the last scene of our mor­tal Life; let us, (I beseech you) summon together and rouse up all the Graces and Vertues we have receiv'd from Heaven, and fervent­ly implore both an encrease of them, and a supply of any that our present Circumstances require; That we may go off the Stage Piously, as well as Handsomly, and both act and suffer as becomes Christian Martyrs. Let not any Crueltys or Affronts of our insul­ting Persecutors, be able to discom­pose [Page 194] us; but let our evenness of mind convince them, that they can as little disorder us in our way to Heaven, as hinder us to get to our Journey's end. But let not our undauntedness appear the effect of sullenness, or fierceness, or of meer resolvedness; but let it be so calm and charitable, that we may not be suspected to be the Martyrs, rather of our Glory, or our Cou­rage, than of our Religion. Let it not be thought that we hate life, or despise it, but only that we think it a cheap purchase for Heaven, and for the honour of owning and fol­lowing a Redeemer, who, to merit it for us, took the Cross in his way thither.

Admonitions so becoming a dying Christian, receiv'd such an enter­tainment, as the Piety of it, and the Veneration he had for the giver, might justly challenge, from so devout and elevated a Soul as that of Didymus: whose resolute an­swers [Page 195] to the Roman Officer, toge­ther with his behaviour, as well since as before he made them, leaving his Enemies no more ex­pectation that he could be pre­vail'd with, either to alter his own resolution, or tempt his Mistress to change hers; he was appointed to be first led away to Execution: that the sight of his Blood might terrifie Theodora, and fright her into a care to preserve her own. This reso­lution of his Enemies, did not at all lessen his; but having easily obtain'd leave, from the Roman Officers, that could not but admire his Gallantry, and somewhat com­passionate his condition, to say a few words to Theodora: He went to that excellent Person; and ap­proaching her with a far greater respect, than he would shew to any Power, that could but preserve that life, which the Romans were going to take from him: He told her: Your Piety, Madam, and your Example, making me presume, [Page 196] that upon such an occasion as this, I may with your consent, part with a life, which ever since I had the Fate to see you, has been so much at your disposal; I am now going without reluctancy to perform that last duty, whereto Religion calls me. But thinking my self oblig'd, to begin with the most difficult part of my Martyrdom, before I bid farewel to the World, my en­clination and respect, brings me to take my last leave of the fairest and excellentest Person in it. If, Madam, (so he proceeds) I were in a con­dition of paying you any further dutys, my humble request to you would be, to have the honour of your further Commands. But since my condition leaves me not a capacity of serving you for the future, one of my last Petitions to you must be, to be pleas'd to look upon my past Services, as extremely short of the desires of a Person, that lov'd you with as much ardency, as your Charms themselves could [Page 197] kindle; and yet with so pure a flame, that had it been visible, even Theodora's Vertue, could not have disapprov'd it. But Madam, (continues he) although to rescue you from the condition you are in, there is no danger so desperate that I would not joyfully attempt, if I were again at liberty, and tho' it were possible I could survive you; yet I am too much concern'd for the nobler part of Theodora, to wish, she would blemish so spotless a life to save it. Only, Madam, give me leave to be so kind and Charitable to the World, as to wish that Providence may find some expedient, to preserve for you, both your Crown and your Head; and that you may arrive so late at Heaven, as to have time to bless the Earth with a long and Exemplary Life; and may you lead it with as much Tranquillity, as you will with Vertue; and without knowing so much as that trouble, which, I fear, your gene­rous [Page 198] compassion may now and then offer to give you, upon the remem­brance of the faithfulest of your Servants.

These words, and the sad occa­sion of them, having drawn some Tears into Theodora's fair Eyes; though the cause of them made them very obliging to Didymus, yet his concern for her quiet, pre­sently engag'd him to help her to suppress them, by making haste to tell her, that 'twas pity the se­renity of her mind and looks, which Vertue had still kept calm, and even Persecutions had not been able to disorder, should be discom­pos'd by any other thing. And Madam, (continues he) though, being confident that your charity will make it unnecessary for me to beg your Prayers, I was going to make it my petition to you, that you would vouchsafe now and then to cast a thought on the me­mory of a Person, to whose mind [Page 199] you were constantly present: Yet, I must now retract that humble request, unless you are pleas'd to grant it me with this qualification; That the honour you do me, may not be disquieting to you. For how great a blessing soever it is, to enjoy a place in your thoughts; yet an Idea must represent quite another man than Didymus, that should, especially on its own score, become troublesome to Theodora; whose compassion is as well need­less, as undesired; since 'tis injuri­ous both to her self and me, to look upon Him as a person to be pitied, that is going to receive the honour and satisfaction, to suf­fer in her sight, what he suffers partly for her service. And the place he implores but in her favou­rable not her mournful thoughts, will give him the noblest and desi­rablest Being, that he can have upon Earth, when he shall be in Heaven.

The things which Didymus said, [Page 120] and the pathetical way he said them in, did not leave the fair Per­son they were address'd to, all the unmov'dness of mind, she us'd to be Mistress of on other occasions. And considering these as the last and dying words of an accom­plish'd Gentleman, that had so highly serv'd and lov'd her, she could not hinder her resentments from making her, on such an occa­sion, remit somewhat of her won­ted reserv'dness. Wherefore with Eyes, wherein though she endea­vour'd to suppress Tears, she dis­clos'd an extraordinary Grief; and with Looks, wherein both Gratitude and Obligedness display'd them­selves; she told him, If I look'd up­on your Vertue, generous Didymus, as one that were but somewhat extraordinary, I should think my self oblig'd to make excuses; and seek your pardon for having been, though undesignedly, so accessory to the early loss of a life, so worthy to be a long one. But what you [Page 121] have this day done, makes me ap­prehend that such Discourses, would not be very pleasing, to one that delights in such Actions. But do not think, I conjure you, that, though I cannot pretend to merit or requite Services of so unusual a strain as yours, I can be insensible, how much I owe to them, not on­ly upon the score of their great­ness, but upon that of the hand­som and generous way wherein you did them. For (continues she, with a colour that somewhat ex­pounded the meaning of what she was going to say) if after the Ver­tue and Gallantry you this day ex­press'd, Providence had thought fit to place me in a condition of making you Retributions, I will allow you to think, that in chusing them for you, I should have been very much, if not unreservedly, guided by your wishes. Here she paus'd a while, and blush'd the latter, that she had said, what to her niceness seem'd so much; and [Page 222] the former, to consider whether he deserv'd not to have more said to him. But her obliging looks did so well second and expound, her otherwise, somewhat indefi­nite words, that Didymus's Heart readily understood the Language of her Eyes; and her Heart spoke so clearly in her Cheeks, some­what that it scrupled to utter by her Tongue, that, expressing more than she said, without injuring her Modesty she righted her Grati­tude: her passionate Admirer esteem­ing himself more highly recom­penc'd, by this permission, to sup­pose her, kindness than he would have done by the perfectest assu­rance of any others love: And fancying, that by the sight of that new Fire that flash'd in her Cheeks, he could descern in her Breast such a resentment of his Services, as involv'd an approbation of their cause, and imply'd a peculiarity for his Person; he took the high est retribution he ever did, for [Page 223] the highest he ever could receive from a Lady, whose Beauty and Reservedness were so great, that no favour of her granting, could appear little.

But Theodora quickly recovering the disorder, this merited Decla­ration had put her into, made hast to prosecute her discourse, by add­ing, But 'tis my satisfaction, and will I hope, be yours, that, since you acted upon Religions score, as well as mine, you will not want a recompence, greater than it had been possible for me to give you; since in rescuing me upon a Christian account, you have serv'd a Master, that is able most richly to reward, even your Performances and Sufferings: And doubt not Didymus, (continues she) but that, when you shall once be possess'd of a Glorious and Immortal Crown in Heaven, you will have no cause, to be troubled, at your having, upon Earth, left a Crown of Law­rel, [Page 124] or miss'd one of Myrtle. If I were to tarry, or rather languish, here below, as many years as your mistaken kindness makes you wish me; your favours have been so extraordinary, that, without being guilty of an ingratitude that would be so too, I could never lose the remembrance of them, nor omit paying you the highest acknow­ledgements, that the chief place, not only in my memory, but in my esteem and friendship, could make you. But do not Didymus, I beseech you, think of my Survi­ving you, when the holding out a few minutes longer for Christ, will introduce me into a Condi­tion, where I shall ever see him, and never offend him. Let us then, (concludes she) quit the thoughts of this World, that we are going so soon to quit, and begin to fix them on those joys of another, that we are going to possess for ever; and during that little time, that is requisite to go take our [Page 125] Crowns, let us summon up all our powers, to contribute to a be­haviour befitting such Expectati­ons. Let our last services to Re­ligion, be our noblest ones, that our Deaths may at least adorn it, if not propagate it. Let us re­ceive the last effects of our Per­secution, as persons that do not deserve such an usage, and are above the reach of it. Let us aspire to Christs temper, in his cause; and suffer Like him, as we suffer For him: and then we need not doubt, but, in spight of this short separa­ration we are yielding to for his Sake, we shall joyfully, and for ever, meet again, in a better place, and in an inestimably happier con­dition.

Theodora had scarce made an end of speaking, when, all things being in a readiness to put the Judges Sentence in Execution, they to whom that infamous employ­ment was committed, came to [Page 226] bring notice of it to Didymus, who, notwithstanding the reluctancy he had, to part with the admirable, and now obliging, Theodora; thinking it would misbecome him, to stay for being press'd on such an occa­sion delay'd not, with all the re­solution he was able to assume, to take his last farewel of her. This cruel separation, being not to have an end, before both their Lives, was solemniz'd by that excellent pair, with Gestures and Expressions so sensible and moving, that, declining an account, which I could not attempt to give, without sharing very much in a grief, that I should be able, but very imperfectly, to describe; I shall silently pass over the Circumstances of this sad Se­paration, that more troubled the generous Lover, and perhaps his admirable Mistress too, than that of Soul and Body, which was pre­sently to follow it. But Didymus, now finally parted from Theodora, whilst he was moving towards [Page 227] the place of his Sufferings, having by the assistance of him, whose Religion call'd Him to them, as­sum'd a temper of mind, suitable to the glorious work he was going to undertake, and entirely dispos'd himself, after having done all that became a Lover, to suffer as be­came a Christian.

This was much the less difficult for him to do, because his whole past life was an excellent prepa­rative, to make him act the last scene of it worthily. For (to add somewhat on this occasion, to the Character given of him in the first Book.) Didymus was a Person, in whom Divine Grace had pro­duc'd so early a Piety, that he was a well grown Christian, before he was come to be a full grown Man. And judging the most flou­rishing time of his Age, to be, for that reason, the fittest to be Devo­ted to the most worthy of Objects; He was enabl'd both to suppress [Page 230] the heats of Youth, and despise the Vanities of the World; even while that usually ungovern'd Age, made the former most impetuous, and gave the latter, the great en­dearment of Novelty. Nor did his being a Soldier, prove an Ob­stacle to his Piety. The Exam­ples of Joshua, David, Jonathan, and other brave Warriers of the Old Testament, shew, that Heroick Valour, may be accompany'd with eminent Piety. And the first Pro­selyte the Heathen World presen­ted to Christianity, being a Cap­tain, and continuing to be so af­ter his Conversion; argues, that a Military state of Life, is not in­consistent with the most innocent of Religions. And for Didymus; as he fought not out of Fierceness, or Avarice, or Ambition; but to exercise and improve his Vertue; so amidst all his Military Con­flicts, he was still careful To fight the good fight of Faith: And being taught by the Holy Scripture, that [Page 229] The Life of Man here on Earth, is a kind of Military one: He us'd the Roman Camp as a School to a higher sort of Warfare; where, as the hardships are greater, and the Victories more difficult, so the Crowns and Triumphs are incom­parably more Valuable and Glo­rious. A Person thus qualify'd and dispos'd, could not find it very uneasie, to part, for his Reli­gion, with a Life that he had led so well, and hazarded so often; nor to leave a World, That Sin and Persecutions embitter'd, and That was presently to be left by Theo­dora, that he might pass to a place where they should meet to be Crown'd. Wherefore, resol­ving to shew that the approach of a reputedly infamous Death, was not able, either to shake his Con­stancy, or extinguish his Charity; he dispos'd himself to mingle in his last Actions and Sufferings, the courage of a Roman Soldier, with the resignment of a Christian [Page 230] Martyr. And accordingly, walk­ing on towards the place of Exe­cution, with a calmness and un­dauntedness, that could scarce have proceeded from a resolution not strengthen'd by Faith; as soon as He came thither, He look'd round about him upon the Guards, and other Assistants of this sad Spec­tacle, in such a way, as if He ra­Ther pity'd them, than lik'd the Pity, which many of them could not but by their Tears express for Him, and discours'd to them with all the gracefulness, that Youth and Courage could give so extraordi­nary a Person. And because he suppos'd, that (as 'twas usual on such occasions of Concourse) there were among the Spectators, some Military Men that were Christians in their Hearts, though they had not been call'd to own it publickly; He address'd himself particularly to them. And having premis'd, that he pretended not to instruct them as barely Christians, be­cause [Page 231] he doubted not, but he had been prevented by the weighty and moving Sermons of divers burning and shining Lights, and guiders of the Church: He told them, he would confine his advices to what was suitable to the condition he shar'd in with them, of being Christian Soldiers. And then he briefly, but pathetically, exhorted them to all those Vertues and practices, that might recommend both their Persons, their Profession, and their Religion. The last of which, by many Arguments, (which his example made the more Impres­sive) he perswaded them, after having adorn'd it by their Lives, to confirm, if they were call'd to it, by their Deaths: Without forget­ting, that the Fearful, are by the Scripture rank'd with the Ʋnbelievers, Revel. 21. 8. as de­stin'd to the same place of Torment; and without fearing any unmerited disgrace, so much as that deserved one, threatn'd by [Page 232] the Captain of their Sal­vation, Heb. 11. 10. to those that shall deny him before Men. He Exhorted them, by their Cou­rage and Obsequiousness to con­vince their unbeleiving Superiors; that the valour of Christians could be eminently active, when their Religion did not confine it to be passive; and that when Enterpri­ses, how dangerous soever, were as just and noble as difficult, they could emulate, if not outshine, the Gallantry of those Deify'd Heroes they refus'd to Worship. And lastly, having press'd them to be loyal to the Emperor, and obedi­ent too, as far as was consistent with Fidelity to Him that made him so: He begg'd their Prayers for himself, and put up ardent ones of his own, for the Church, the State, his Persecutors, and parti­cularly, for the excellent Compa­nion of his Martyrdom. This said; he began to do what was to be done by him, towards the deli­verance [Page 233] of his Soul from his Body; and having done it with so much serenity of Mind and Looks, that he extorted an esteem of his vertue, even from those that destroy'd him him for it; he let the Executioner do his part too, (which probably, was done by taking off his Head) and in a moment pass'd, from being a suffering Member of the Church Militant, to be a happy one of the Church Triumphant.

CHAP. XII.

THE Persecutors of Theodora, hoping to intimidate her by so Tragick a Spectacle, had con­ducted her to a place, whence she might see all that had pass'd; of which 'twill easily be believ'd that she had not been an unconcern'd Spectator: Her Vertue and Kind­ness making her a sharer in his Sufferings, by sympathising with him, and by endeavouring, as far as she could, to relieve him by her most ardent Prayers; That his constancy under them might be Divinely Supported, and richly Crown'd. But while her thoughts were, with a Divine grief, Solem­nising her loss; those cruel Men that had procur'd it, being desirous to make use of the terrifying im­pressions [Page 235] they suppos'd she had re­ceiv'd, while they were fresh and recent, advanc'd to Theodora, bring­ing with them the purposely dis­figur'd remains of Didymus; and then told her, that she was now convinc'd, that neither Youth nor Gallantry was able to protect, from the fatal anger of the Gods, those that obstinately refus'd to Worship them; and therefore they expected, that, by a seasonable care of herself, she would shun the imi­tation of so Tragical an Example. To this the fair Martyr replied, that she was not at all surpriz'd at what had pass'd, and therefore, she knew not why she should be terrified by it. For Didymus and she, and all other considering Christians, that walk according to their Masters directions, were wont deliberately to weigh the consequences of embracing a strict and persecuted Religion, before they made Profession of it: And having foreseen what it might [Page 242] cost them, and satisfied themselves that it deserv'd a yet higher Price; they were not discourag'd nor sur­priz'd, to be put to pay that price; especially, when it open'd to them an immediate passage to the posses­sion of what they gave it for. She added, that if the Example of the generous Martyr, were to have any operation upon her, it ought not to fright her from, but confirm her in, the profession of a Religion, whose truth he thought worth dying for; and which, notwith­standing all the handsome con­cerns he had for her preservation, he would never speak one word to perswade her to decline, for the protracting of her Life. His Ex­ample, (continues Theodora) lets me see, that no violences upon Earth, are able to destroy a Cou­rage that is assisted from Heaven, and fights in view of the glories of it: And his Death manifests, how quick the passage may, be be­tween this and an incomparably [Page 241] better Life; and clearly shews, how soon the utmost effect of your Cru­elty, can place those that despise it, above the reach of it. Then casting her mournful Eyes upon the saddest Object that ever they beheld; If you should, says she, be so inhumane, as to exercise any further Cruelty upon this now in­animate Prison, whence his glad Soul has Escap'd; you may intend him a mischief, but he will not feel it, unless it be in the encrease of the recompences of his Martyr­dom. You may, if you please, in­sult over his dead Body; and those whom his vertue made his Friends, may some of them be troubled at it: but while you are triumph­ing at his Death, and others are deploring it, I doubt not, but the welcomes and joys he receives in the blessed place he is gone to, make him happy enough, to pity not on­ly those that hate him, but those that pity him too. What you shew me as the Trophy of your [Page 238] Power, I look upon, as that of his Constancy: and for what you pre­sume to be Your Victory, He will be really Crown'd. The Grave, (continues she) is, I confess, a sad Prospect, to them that look no further, and terminate their sight there; but not to those sufferers for the Truth, who, with the Eye of Faith, looking beyond it, see all those Glories on the other side of it, that expect them there; whereunto, as some kind of Death must necessarily be the way, so Martyrdom of all, other is the Noblest. Wherefore, (concludes Theodora) you will very much miss your aim, if you forbear bringing my constancy to the last Tryal, only upon hopes, that Death dress'd with unusual Horror, by being be­smear'd with Didymus's Blood, should frighten me into Apostacy: For, I am much less terrified by his Fate, than encouraged by his Ex­ample. In imitation of which, I declare to you once for all, that, as [Page 239] I always valued this World too little, to be much afraid to part with it for a better; So I shall never be brought to quitan excellent Reli­gion for a bad one, for fear of exchanging a wretched Life for a happy one.

This positive and final declarati­on of Theodora, did so enrage those to whom she made it, that, finding themselves quite disappointed of the hopes they had, to terrifie her by their last Expedient, Didymus's Death; they presently led her away to participate of his Fate, which they found her so resolv'd not to decline. And now the admi­rable Theodora, having receiv'd that cruel, but welcom Command, most readily dispos'd herself to obey it: And considering how near she was to put a period to all the afflictions of her Life, by the gloriousest Action it could be concuded with; and how soon she should enjoy the hap­piness of entering Heaven, thorough the streightest and noblest Gate at [Page 244] which it is accessible: Her Beau­ty, that was before admirable, ap­pear'd more so than ever, being strangely encreas'd, by the effusions of a Coelestial Joy, that did too much abound in her heart, not to flash out manifestly in her looks; to whose native Charms, it superad­ded so much of Luster and Majesty, that she seem'd (upon some pecu­liar design) to be newly come from the Heaven she was going to. So great a constancy and chearfulness of mind, upon so sad an occasion, wanted not a resembling Operation, upon the generality of the wonder­ing Assistants. For though the Re­port, that was quickly spread of so uncommon an Action, as that of Theodora, done by so extraordinary a Person, as Fame had represented her to be; had drawn a great con­course of People, to see one that ac­ted, as well as look'd, so handsomly: Yet when they had a while beheld her, and saw the cruel Instruments of what she was doom'd to suffer; [Page 245] among that numerous Throng of Spectators, there were none that were not Admirers; many that look'd on her with dazled, and few without flowing Eyes. Every sort of Spectators found something in her Person and Condition, that made them mournful Ones. The Christians that chanc'd to mingle with the rest of the Crowd, La­mented, to see their Religion de­priv'd of so great an Ornament, and so shining an Example; though their grief were moderated by considering, that she was enter­ing into a most happy place, to which they might hope, ere long, to follow her. And in the mean time, 'twas no small credit to their Religion, that a Lady of her Beau­ty, had liv'd according to the strict­est Laws of it; and a Person of her youth and sex, was ambitious to dye for it. Those among the Spectators that yet retain'd Roman Spirits, and were the genuine Off-spring of those noble Ancestors, [Page 242] that scrupled not in Rome it self, to allow publick marks of honour to its greatest Enemies; could not but be troubled, to see so rare a thing as a Female Hero, punished for a Generosity, that could not sufficiently be Rewarded; and brought to an untimely, and, in popular estimation, Ignominious End, for having followed Dictates of Gratitude and Piety. Those Infidels, on whose sentiments Ver­tue had more influence than Su­perstition, were very much dis­satisfied with the rigour of their Magistrates; thought it a discredit to their Religion, to use such bar­barous, and yet ineffectual Cour­ses, to fright Men into it; and they thought it an invidious ser­vice to their Gods, to destroy the fairest Masterpieces they had made. But those that seem'd most to de­plore the fair Martyrs condition, were those that were dispos'd to have their Affections wrought on by their Eyes, and were apt to [Page 243] be influenc'd by Beauty. For these much repin'd and griev'd, to see so glorious a Sun reduc'd to set in her East. They envy'd Didymus, for having so generously serv'd and suffer'd for so rare a Person; who, they thought, instead of the barbarous usage she receiv'd, de­serv'd to be as happy, as her Smiles could make her Adorers. And they allow'd themselves to think, that nothing could be a Vertue, that depriv'd the World of so much Beauty. In short, most of the By-standers griev'd, to behold a per­son, whose youth would pass for inno­cency, and whose charms would, give her Captives among Savages de­stroy'd in Greece by Romans. So that bating those few Barbarians, whose Superstition and Malice brought her to that Condition: All the other Spectators of her Sufferings, were deplorers of them too: And many to that degree, that to judge by Their looks, and those of our fair Martyr, one would have be­liev'd that the Assistants were to be [Page 244] sufferers in the approaching Tra­gedy, and She but the Spectator of it.

And now the Matchless Theodora came to the place, whence her aspiring Soul was to take its flight to Heaven. In order to which, she first look'd about her with a kind of pity, on those, that either never, or later than she, were to be admitted into the felicity she was presently to possess: And af­terwards she paus'd a while, to recover from some disorder that she was put into; not so much to see her self environ'd with Guards, as surrounded with Gazers: and then, though her Bashfulness made it more uneasie to her to speak to the Assistants, because her speech must be a publick one, than be­cause it must be her last; yet with a Voice and Gestures, wherein the Modesty of a Virgin, and the Cou­rage of a Martyr, were happily tem­per'd, she address'd her self to those that were about her, in such as the following terms.

[Page 245] Since Custom has made it a kind of Duty, that those that come to this place, should say something to the Spestators; and make a publick Confession of their Guilt, or protestation of their Innocence; I shall in part do both the one and the other. For I will [...] deny, that I am, what the Laws have condemn'd me for being. Yes; I own my self a Christian, and in spight of all my past and approach­ing sufferings, I declare, that I think it an honour and a happiness to be so. But on the other side, I can most truly protest, that I have transgress'd no other Roman Laws, than those that are repugnant to those of God and Reason. And since we Christians are taught by our great masters Example, as well as Precepts, not only to forgive, but to love our Enemies, and pray for our Persecutors; I think my self oblig'd, and by his assistance find my self enabled, not only to forgive, as I heartily do, the pro­curers of my Death, but ardently [Page 246] to implore for them, the Blessing, and the unmolested Exercise of a Religion, that they see I value more than I do my Life. And I hope, those in Authority will, by the frequent Executions that daily succeed one another in this place, be at [...]gth convinc'd, how inef­fectual, as well as inhumane, a way they take, to extirpate Chri­stianity: Which being an Hea­venly Light, can be as little ruin'd by the Violence employed against it on Earth, as Tempests can Ex­tinguish the Sun. And because 'tis likely that Charity or Curio­sity has, among other Spectators, brought hither some Christians, I shall now address my self to Them; yet not to desire their Pity, but their Prayers, That I may be en­abled to overcome the last Enemy, Death, and finish my Course, in such a way, as may neither blemish my past Life, nor the glorious Cause I gladly loose it for. But the chief part of my Request regards your selves, not me. For I must beg [Page 247] you to remember, that, besides an All seeing Eye, there are many other Eyes upon you, that pry into your Actions with strong de­sires to find them Criminal: And that though the truth, nor the subsistance of Christianity does not, yet the Credit of it does much, depend upon the Nature of your Actions. For, as all your perso­nal faults will be imputed to your Religion, so your shining Vertues, will probably bring many Infidels first to admire, and then to em­brace Christianity; justly conclu­ding, that That Religion must be excellent, that makes its professors so; and enables, as well as enjoins them, to live blameless in the World, and go joyfully out of it. If you lead such lives, you will not be much afraid of Martyrdom; which will but send you sooner to receive those inestimable rewards of them, that Gods goodness hath promis'd and provided. I wish you may never have cause, nor upon occasion want Courage, to [Page 248] enter into Life at that streight Gate, that I am now going to pass through. But if you be call'd to that way of glorifying God, let neither the ignominy, nor the painfulness of it, deter you. 'Tis not shameful, but glorious, to suffer for God, for Truth, and for a Crown; and my Example may encourage the weak­est of you to expect, that Gods strength will be made manifest in your Infirmity; and that there's no Temp­tation but may be resisted and van­quished, by the weakest hand, that is supported and strengthen'd by an Almighty Arm. And though the distance between Heaven and Earth, our Mortal and our Im­mortal state, be very great; yet the passage between them may be very short: and a few moments may bring us to exchange our Agonys for Extasies, and pass from the Lamentations of our Friends, and the reproaches of our Persecutors, to the Congratulations of Angels, and the solemn Welcoms of Him, whom even those Heavenly Spirits adore.

[Page 249] As soon as she had ended this Discourse, though her Soul, abando­ning such a Body as hers, could scarce any where but in Heaven, find an advantage by a change of Mansion; yet it cheerfully dispos'd it self to a Separation, that would give it a closer and more immedi­ate Union with the Divine Object of its Coelestial love. And after she had decently and calmly, made all the preparation that on her part was requisite for what she was to suffer, she thought fit to make her Lifes last actions, as most of the rest had been, acts of Piety, and Charity. And therefore elevating her Eyes and Hands towards Hea­ven, where her Heart, as well as her Treasure, had been plac'd long before; she first paid her God most humble thanks, for the Grace and opportunity he had vouchsaf'd her; not only to believe in his Divine Son, but to suffer for him; and then made a short, but very fervent Prayer, for the Church, for her Enemies, and for her self. [Page 250] Which done, with a Countenance wherein serenity was mingled with joy, she gave a sign to the Executi­oner to do his Office; who there­upon did all that was necessary to compleat her Martyrdom. And the glad Soul was by the Angels, (whom she had aspir'd to resemble in Purity and Devotion) carry'd to that happy place, whose Glo­rys are neither to be Conceiv'd,1 Cor. 11. 9. by those that have not seen them, nor Describ'd by those that have;2 Cor. 12. 4. such supernatural Felicities, as much Transcending mans Idea's and his Expressions as they surpass his Merit.